Encounters
by yetanothernobody
Summary: After causing Arrow's death, Jim Hawkins suddenly finds himself facing off with Scroop, and the circumstances aren't good. Things get worse as Jim begins to realize there are things worse than death. Rated M for graphic torture and language. Oneshot turned multishot, subject to sporadic updates.
1. Confrontation

A/N: Repost

Special thanks to:

ManILoveAnonymity, Xiaolin, PcKtmouse, ZukoFlame, Mila, JenniJenJen, BlackandWhiteAngel, Nejidragon, kaitamis, angelofdeath, topaz, Sky, Gin, pyro, tears, lovestar, treasureanon, and San's wife. Your reviews way back when have continued to encourage me.

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The knife scuffed the potato again, shedding more peeling from the spongy flesh. It joined the others on the floor, creating a small pile. Knife in hand, Jim Hawkins continued this minimal task for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Most of the potatoes were already peeled and cleaned, and sitting in a plastic bucket near his boot. Grief made him hunch over his work, and again and again he used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe away his tears.

 _It's all my fault,_ he thought miserably, grief filling his chest, and weighing down his shoulders ever more. _If I had just double-checked that blasted lifeline…_ He knew by now, of course, that such thinking was useless. Mr. Arrow was lost. There was nothing that could be done, nothing whatsoever. And it was all because of his stupid mistake.

In a fit of rage, he threw down his knife, and kicked out at the bucket, sending it's contents spilling across the floor.

"Why couldn't I just do it _right_?" He fumed aloud, jumping up and running his hands through his hair angrily. Hot tears streamed down his face, and he bit his lip to force them back. He was used to doing this by now. He forced himself to breathe steadily for a few moments, until he got a grip. "I'm such an _idiot_."

"Cabin boy…" A deep voice came from behind him, and he whirled around. A huge, six-legged form was blocking his only exit. He lifted his chin defiantly.

"What do _you_ want?" _Spider-psycho._ He added mentally. Scroop's yellow eyes glowed as he glared down at the boy.

"It'sss your fault we lossst Mr. Arrow." He taunted. "Who elssse are you planning to dissspose of?"

"You should really do something about that lisssp." Jim glared back evenly at the insectisoid, balling his hands into fists. His eyes darted towards the knife he'd dropped. He'd give anything to have it in hand now.

"Why you impudent little-" Scroop started, but he stopped when he followed the boy's eyes towards the potential weapon. "Ssso…cabin boy wantsss to fight?" He taunted darkly. A look of extreme distaste crossed Jim's face.

"As if I'd waste my time." Scroop lashed out at Jim with his massive claws, but the teen jumped to one side and bolted. Scroop was still blocking the doorway to the galley, so he fled through the only other door he could see, which led into the kitchen. He heard the sound of not two, but six feet coming after him, and he hastily threw over a large barrel of purps behind him.

Where could he run now? There was no way he could fight Scroop. And Morph wasn't here to help him this time. He'd been with Silver ever since they'd cleared the black hole. _Silver!_ He thought desperately as he bolted towards another door. _I need help!_ But unless the cyborg was telepathic as well as a good cook, there was little he could do for his cabin boy now.

Jim collided with a shelf, and was horrified to find that he had run straight into the larder. He was cornered.

He turned to see Scroop's dark silhouette on the wall outside the door. He looked around wildly, and his eyes landed on a small space beneath the shelves mostly used for storing pots and pans that were of no use. It was mostly empty. He dove for it, and rolled onto his side. He held his breath as his tormenter stalked into the room. His heart was pounding so hard he could've sworn Scroop would hear it, but apparently he was wrong. The spider-like alien examined the small room, turned, and left. Jim sighed, relieved. But his reprieve was cut short as the door slammed shut and locked. He gasped, staring at it. _No!_ He dared not move. He slowly counted to thirty, and slowly edged himself out from the storage compartment. He looked around, and found that he was alone. It was incredibly dark, but then it was after sunset, so no surprise there.

He stood up, and cautiously walked towards the door. He pressed his ear to the cold metal, and heard nothing. His hands felt their way down the door, until he found the handle. He tried to turn it, but it was locked. Then he frowned. That was weird, he felt a switch. Why would Scroop lock the door if he could easily _un_ lock it from the inside? He caught his breath suddenly. _Unless_ -

A dark chuckle came from above him, and to his utmost terror, he watched, frozen, as Scroop slowly descended from the roof.

"Sssomeone needs to teach you a lessson, boy." He said, his voice full of malice. Jim came to his senses, and turned sharply, his hands fumbling to relocate the door handle and the lock. But Scroop grabbed his shoulder before he had a chance, and before he honestly knew what was happening, Scroop hand him pinned down on the floor. He snapped open his claw, and held it to Jim's neck.

Suddenly, a new light came to his eyes. One that gave Jim chills. Scroop moved his claw to finger the parting of his shirt just over his chest, which was partially split open. "It seemsss unfair for a lad sssuch as yourssself to die _inexperienced_." Jim's eyes flew open wide, and he began kicking out savagely. He caught Scroop off guard, knocking him away, and he once again took refuge under the shelves.

"Help! Silver! Morph, Doc, somebody, help!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Scroop caught his boot, and dragged him out from under the shelf.

"I'm doing you a favor, cabin boy." A twisted leer covered his fanged-face as he thrust his left claw towards Jim's belt, and caught the buckle.

"Get off me, you psychotic _freak_!" Jim cried out. He was panicking now. He'd heard the stories of people who had faced this...situation. He'd heard all the warnings, had been taught to defend himself. But his mind was drawing a blank. Scroop was stronger than him, the knives were all in the kitchen and his attacker was blocking his only escape. What was he supposed to do? He felt something sharp pinch his thigh, and he yelped. The alien tore his jacket from his arms.

"Ssstop squirming!" Scroop snapped, but Jim bit down on one of his claws, causing the pirate to hiss in pain. "You ungrateful little-" Jim kicked him in the jaw, and leapt up, running for the door. Scroop tackled him from behind, putting one arm around both of Jim's so that he could barely move. Scroop seized a hold of his belt again, and it came undone easily.

"Stop it!" Jim shouted, "Let me go!" His tone was pleading, almost begging. He fought with all his might, and Scroop hurled him against the wall. He still hand a firm hold on Jim's shirt, though, and yanked it over his head as he did. He dropped it on the wooden floor, and smirked at the bare-chested teen cowering in the corner.

Feeling slightly cold without his shirt, Jim shivered. His belt lay by the door to the larder, and he shuddered. He couldn't believe this was happening. The only things he still had on were his cargo pants, socks, and one boot. He looked up as he felt a wave of panic sweep over him.

"No…no, please! Please, don't-"

"Shut up." Scroop snarled, and Jim instantly became silent. He swallowed hard, feeling tears rising in his eyes. "You're a pathetic wassste of ssskin." He grabbed Jim's wrist, twisting it backwards. "Don't you agree?" Jim nodded, slowly at first, then frantically. The alien smirked again. "Sssuch a useless, worthless pieccce of garbage." Jim whimpered, and Scroop released his wrist. Jim cradled it, feeling a bruise forming. "You'd better behave. No more missstakes…underssstand?" Jim nodded, hugging his wrist to his chest, and looked away, shutting his eyes tight. Tears cascaded down his cheeks.

"Just don't…" He couldn't say it. Just _thinking_ about it scared him to the point where he could barely think. "Please, leave me alone…please…" He sniffled, and waited in agonizing shame. Nothing. Not even a hiss. He looked up, and was surprised to see that he was alone.

Jim wiped his eyes with his bare wrist, and tried desperately to calm down. He looked up, half fearing that Scroop was merely toying with him. But no, he was well and truly gone. Jim buried his head in his knees, and rocked himself back and forth. He couldn't help it. He cried quietly for who knew how long, before he was able to get up and walk steadily again.

He pulled his shirt back on, then his belt, his boot (which had come loose during the struggle), and finally his jacket. He left the larder, and walked cautiously into the kitchen. The purps had been picked up, and the barrel refilled. A soft glow came from the galley, and when he walked in, he saw Silver finishing his own former task.

Peeling potatoes.

Silver looked up, and gave a soft smile.

"Jimbo, lad. Thought ya went ta the crew's quarters by no'. 'Tis late, laddo." Jim nodded slowly. Should he- no. _Could_ he tell Silver what had almost happened? Scroop had…he was going to…Jim refused to use the word. He flat out refused. "Jimbo?" Jim looked up.

"Wha…huh?"

"I said, are ya feelin' alrigh'?" Jim swallowed.

"Silver…there's…um, there's something I gotta tell you." he said. His voice came out barely louder than a whisper.

"An what 'twould tha' be?" Silver wiped off the blade that was part of his mechanical arm. Jim bit his lower lip so hard that he tasted blood. What if he told Silver, and he ended up thinking less of him? He'd worked so hard these last few months. He and Silver had become so close. The cyborg was the father he'd never had. No, he couldn't run the risk of losing what little respect the cook had for him. Especially not now. He also feared what Scroop might do to him if anyone found out. He hadn't said to keep their confrontation a secret. He hadn't had to. Jim knew that was what he wanted.

Besides, nothing _serious_ had happened. Scroop hadn't actually hurt him. Jim made up his mind.

"I, uh…I forgot to sharpen the knives you told me to clean last night." He said, looking up. Silver's mechanical eye was burning gold, and he frowned, looking puzzled.

"I didn' ask ya to clean anythin' last nigh', Jimbo." Jim feigned a smile.

"Oh. Well, I thought you did. Never mind then." Silver didn't look convinced.

"Jimbo…are ya feelin' better after…?" He meant the black hole. Jim still felt a load of grief for his mistake. His stupid, brainless, bone-headed mistake. He was also terrified of what Scroop had…insinuated.

"…yeah." Jim sighed, hanging his head. "I guess so." Silver regarded him carefully, and sighed.

"Alrigh', if ya say so." Jim started to pick up a potato, but Silver shook his head. "I think you've done enough for today, lad. Go on an' get some shut eye." Jim paused for a moment, and briefly considered arguing, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He felt the back of his neck.

"Arlight. G'night." He froze. What had he just…?

"G'night, boyo." Jim felt a little bit better after hearing that. He walked up the stairs leading to the galley, and inhaled deeply as a cooling breeze met him. After savoring the refreshing air, he turned towards the crews quarters. He was exhausted, but it scared him to think of what might happen should Scroop find him alone again…

Shaking his head, Jim started for the doorway. He wouldn't be alone in the room with Scroop. The other spacers were down there as well, all asleep save the night watchman. Jim glanced around, but was relieved to see Israel Hands stalking along the bow of the ship.

The teen snuck silently into the room, and made his way quietly amongst the maze of hammocks. He slowly leaned back into the sturdy fabric, and slipped his jacket off of his shoulders. He folded it into a makeshift pillow, and slipped his boots off his feet. They made a soft thudding sound as they hit the floor, and he rolled onto his side.

Scroop was in his hammock, and his still form informed Jim that he, like all the other spacers, was asleep. Jim closed his eyes, and tried to erase the event from his mind. _It's okay,_ he told himself. _Nothing happened. You're alright, you're still alive, he didn't hurt you, it's okay. Nothing happened…nothing happened…nothing…happ…_

Jim Hawkins dozed off into a troubled sleep.


	2. Denial

Jim crept cautiously through the cargo of the _Legacy_. A pipe hissed behind him, and he jumped. He held his breath until his heart stopped pounding, then swore. Ever since his encounter with Scroop, he'd been jumpy. True, the arachnid hadn't paid him any special attention since. But every time Jim had to go into the larder for anything, he was reminded of the nightmarish events that had unfolded there. But he kept his cool. After a few days, he was able to stop looking over his shoulder all the time. He'd dealt with bullies before, and treated Scroop like he had them. He avoided him at all costs, and when it couldn't be helped, such as when he was supposed to be sleeping in his hammock, he was careful not to sleep with his back to the arachnid. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that the problem wasn't totally gone.

As he rifled through the contents of kitchen supply crates below deck, his mind wandered to that morning. Morph, sensing his bad mood, had tried to lighten him up. As the teenager had been chopping up vegetables, Morph had suddenly tugged at his ponytail. He'd brushed the blob away at first, but that hadn't deterred him. He'd tugged at the boy's bangs next.

"Morph," Jim muttered, pushing him away. "Not now. I'm busy." Morph wouldn't give up though. His next move had been a bit more mischievous. He'd slid under the counter top where Jim was working, and had tied the strings of his apron to drawers on either side of him. Jim was oblivious, of course, until he'd gone to drop the vegetables into the large caldron. He yelped as his apron had yanked down unexpectedly on his neck, tripping him. There was the thundering sound of the large caldron crashing to the galley floor, which had caused Silver to come into the kitchen, and Jim looked up from where he'd fallen, holding his head where it had smacked into the countertop.

"Jimbo...?" Silver said, looking at him for an explanation. Jim glanced at the spilled contents of the caldron, then at his apron hanging from the kitchen drawers, then at Silver.

"...ow." Silver's mechanical eye began to glow red.

"What the devil are you doin' in 'ere, boy?" Jim glared at him.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault, I-"

"I don' wan' ta hear it!" Silver bellowed, and Jim fell silent. Silver held his breath, and after a moment, his cybernetic eye returned to it's neutral yellow glow. "Sorry lad." Jim gave him a half-hearted smile and shrugged. "I'll give ye a hand." He'd helped Jim clean up the mess, and then had sent him below decks to get a different caldron, one that wouldn't tip over so easily.

He poked through the crates, gripping the crowbar he'd brought with him as he looked around. As he was passing one of the crates, a flash of copper caught his eye.

"Ah. Okay then." He picked the crate up, but it was too heavy. He put the crowbar down and turned back to the crate, and set it down on the floor. Something shifted behind him, and he turned to see that the crowbar had moved. He rolled his eyes, smiling. "Gotcha!" he said as he snatched it, expecting more of Morph's tricks. But it didn't turn to pink gel. It didn't giggle and pull his hair. It was the real crowbar. He felt a chill run down his spine as he swallowed nervously, his mouth going dry. With shaking hands, he went back to his task of freeing the caldron. He gripped the crowbar tightly, prying the wood open. The top splintered into several large pieces, which he pushed aside. He gripped the copper caldron, and was about to lift it out of the crate when he heard what sounded like wood shifting. He turned sharply, noting that one large piece was missing.

"I thought I made it clear," a deep voice hissed from behind him. "No misssstakes!" Jim yelped, turning towards the door, but a thick, strong claw grasped the collar of his shirt, lifting him off the ground and jerking him backward. He clenched his eyes shut as he was slammed against a wall. He heard his attacker hiss, felt his breath on his neck. He swallowed, and forced himself to open his eyes. Sure enough, he found himself looking at his reflection in the eerie golden eyes of Scroop. His mouth tightened into a firm line.

"What do you want now?" Jim snapped. Scroop leered at him, pulling him further away from the ground. Jim kicked half-heartedly, knowing that struggling was useless at that point.

"We've been working all day, ssslaving away in the sssun," he hissed menacingly. "And we climb down in hopesss of getting a decent meal, only to find that our uselesss cabin boy hasss ssscrewed up again."

"No I didn't," Jim said in his defense. "I just- AH!" Jim yelped as Scroop swung at him with a fractured piece of the crate, catching him across the arm. He hissed in pain, rubbing his arm against the wall to stop the sting. Scroop threw him to the floor and swung at him again, this time landing a blow to the side of his neck and face. Tears sprang into his eyes, and he jumped backward, crawling away from the armed spacer. His back brushed up against a door, and he stared, wide-eyed with fear as Scroop came near him. He reached down and grabbed Jim by the neck of his shirt, and dragged him into what was once a small control room. The _Legacy_ was an old ship, one that had once been operated by maintained computers in several rooms all over the ship. After it had been renovated to operate through a different console, the control rooms had been altered into store rooms. It was in such a room that they were in now. Scroop thrust Jim up against the far wall, and the boy held his arms up in front of him to protect himself.

"N-noo!" he yelped. "P-please, stop!"

"Silence," Scroop snarled in a low voice. "What did I sssaay?"

"N-no more m-misstakes." Jim repeated in a shaky voice. "I'm sorry, it wasn't my fault, I-" Scroop swung the club at him again, effectively halting all arguments. Jim yelped, and tried to get out the door, but Scroop caught him about the waist and hauled him back, delivering a series of sharp blows. The wood cracked each time it came into contact with his body. He dodged to the left, to the right, tried to crawl under Scroop, but each time he was thrown back against the wall and beaten more severely. Just when Jim thought that it couldn't get any worse, Scroop grabbed his shirt and pulled it off over his head. Without the fabric there to soften the blows, the pain was intensified. Jim looked up at Scroop, begging him to stop, promising that he'd be more careful. He'd have promised anything if he'd thought it would help. But Scroop wasn't done yet. Jim covered his head and neck with his arms, curling into a ball. Scroop grabbed his cargo pants by the hem and pulled. Jim felt them rip at the waistline, then felt the sharpened pain as the wood came down on his legs and back. Suddenly, they stopped. Cautiously, Jim looked around, keeping his eyes on the floor. Scroop was still standing there.

"Maybe your earss will work better from now on," he snickered darkly. Jim tenderly touched one of the angry red marks on his arms, and winced. Scroop grabbed him by his ponytail and jerked him upward, looking him in the eyes. "That isss, unlesss you want another meeting like thisss one." Jim glared at Scroop, aware of the tears that were running down his cheeks. His chest shuddered as he started sobbing, and he shut his eyes tight as his body began trembling uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry..." he whimpered again. "I..."

"Hush." Scroop said softly, and the boy jolted as the spacer suddenly... _hugged_ him. He froze momentarily, shocked, but then felt the arachnid's claws moving for his waistline. Jim's pulse skyrocketed and he suddenly jumped away and backed up into the wall. Scroop let something akin to a hiss slip from his lips, mimicking a laugh. Then, just as suddenly as he'd appeared, he was gone.

Jim had never been so terrified in his life. He was shaking so hard, it felt like his body was out of his control, jerking in spasms. Everything hurt. He was terrified, and in places where the wood had scraped his skin, he was bleeding. The cold air on his skin made everything seem surreal. Like a nightmare come to life. This was worse than the larder. Much, much worse.

He bowed his head and cried.

"Jimbo?" Silver asked softly. The boy slowly turned towards the cyborg cook.

"Yeah?"

"Boyo, why are ye wearin' tha' jacket?" he asked. Jim glanced at his black leather jacket and shrugged.

"Because I'm cold...?" he replied sarcastically. Silver studied him for a moment. Something just wasn't with the boy. He thought that Jim had gotten over Arrow's death, but as of late, he was slinking around as if he were hiding from everyone. Was it out of guilt? Was it because he had yelled at him for spoiling the stew a few days before, and wasting all that food? Or was something else going on? Then again, if he was basically becoming a living shadow again, what else _could_ be going on? Jim sighed irritably, pulling Silver out of his thoughts. "Do you have to stand there watching me every _second_?" The boy snapped. Silver looked at him sternly.

"Eh, none o' tha' no'." he chided. "Twas only askin' an honest question." Jim rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." That word again. Silver walked away from the boy, dismissing the change of attitude. If he wanted to be difficult, better to let him get it out of his system than to crack down on him and make it worse.

As soon as Silver had left, Jim glanced over at the pile of clean dishes he was accumulating. Biting his lip, he picked up a small knife, one of the sharpest in the kitchen. He stared at his distorted reflection in the blade, having second thoughts. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. It had occurred to him sometime after he'd hauled himself out of the storage room and had limped back into his clothes that if Scroop was doing these things as a way of punishing him, there might be a way to make him stop that didn't involve telling anyone. Inflicting injuries on himself.

Cutting.

He'd thought about it for awhile now. The bruises were fading. They still hurt a bit, but the visual marks were disappearing. Then he could stop wearing his stupid jacket, and stop being roasted alive while he was scrubbing the decks. He'd have to be careful, but he had known a girl that had cut before. She'd always worn tank tops and short-shorts, but she'd cut in the one place that no one ever thought to check. On her stomach, right under her breasts. Back then, he'd considered starting. He had to work at getting his nerve up to cut his own flesh, and in the end, he'd chickened out. But out of everything that could happen, he did _not_ want another beating from Scroop. They were horrible, and they left him smarting for days afterward. He felt so vulnerable now, whether Scroop was around or not. Later that night, Silver had gone below deck for something and had found the pieces of splintered wood. Thinking that Jim had been the one that had left them there, he'd ordered him to go back and clean it up. _That_ had been torture. But once again, he'd done everything he could to keep it a secret. There was _definitely_ no way he was telling Silver now.

What would he say? The first time, he might have been able to say that Scroop had snuck up on him in the larder, and that he'd had no way of knowing what Scroop was capable of. But now? Now he _knew_ what Scroop wanted. He should have been protecting himself better. He should have known better. That's what Silver would probably say if he told him. And then the look of pity would come. The same look he'd given Jim when he'd commented on how his father had left.

No. He couldn't take that. He would rather take Scroop's beatings than Silver's pity. He didn't care what Scroop thought of him, but he _did_ care about what Silver thought of him.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and rolled up his shirt. Just under his chest was a large bruise that was turning scarlet. He pressed the blade against his skin, feeling the razor edge threatening him. He drew in a deep breath...and pulled suddenly.

Immediately, he gasped out in pain, and instinctively placed his hand over it, pressing hard. It stung, it _burned_ , and the bruise was smarting now as well. When he opened his eyes again, he glanced down at his trembling hand and saw blood. Not a lot, it wasn't like he'd gutted himself, but there was still blood. He had a sudden memory of himself when he was still very young. He'd been playing outside their house, before they'd moved to the Benbow Inn, and he'd cut his knee open on a sharp rock. It had been a tiny cut, but at the time he'd cried like a baby. His father had come running out of the house, but when he saw what had happened, he'd been angry.

"You stop that!" He'd scolded fiercely. "Stop that now! That's nothing to cry about! Keep it up and I'll _give_ you something to cry about!" His tone, of course, had scared him even more, and he hadn't been able to stop crying, so his dad had given him a spanking with his belt right then and there.

"Thomas!" His mother had screamed. "Tom, leave him alone!" She ran out to them and pulled a very tearful Jim away from her husband. "He's only a little boy!"

"No son of mine is going to cry like that, Sarah." Tom had replied. Jim had bitten down on is lips to keep himself from crying, but now it was harder, and therefore impossible. Sarah had taken him inside and kissed his knee and put a band-aid on it, and had tried to calm him down, but all Jim could think of was what his father had said. _No son of mine is going to cry like that._ It felt like he was saying Jim wasn't his son.

Jim jumped when he realized tears were forming in his eyes _again_. He growled angrily and brushed them away. A new fear leapt at him, seemingly from nowhere. What if Silver was like his dad? Scroop was only leaving bruises, not doing any permanent damage. If Silver found out...what if he...? Jim shoved the thought away, and wiped away the blood coming from the cut.

Something was different now. It was as if part of the fear he'd felt had diminished. He remembered that girl telling him about that, too. About how good it felt to have some authority of who hurt her, about how much she bled, about how the pain felt. She did it for control. But he would do it to protect himself. He lined the knife up next to his skin again, pressing it tight once more. His hands weren't shaking anymore. They were steady. Calm. His anxiety was less now than it had been in weeks. In fact, he felt almost normal. A small, mirthless smile formed on his lips as he envisioned what his dad would say if he could see him now. He wasn't crying.

He pulled the knife again.

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a/n: pls review


	3. Business

Scroop was hidden from sight, his body expertly concealed in the shadows. Silver had been right to leave someone to guard the ship, as he had spotted something approaching the starboard side. It was one of the longboats, from the looks of it the one Silver and the others had taken, but now there was a lone figure piloting it. The mercenary peered closer. It was unmistakably human. The cabin boy. Scroop waited for someone else to sneak on deck, but Jim was definitely alone.

The damned kid had been hiding in the galley that morning, and had overheard Scroop and Silver in the midst of a heated debate. Silver said he was putting unnecessary pressure on the kid, and Scroop argued Silver was getting soft.

He felt his mouth curl into a loathing snarl. Silver was an Ursid, and as such had no bloodfeud with the Terran empire as a whole, but Scroop was different. His people had a long standing hatred for humans. Where he was from the human slave trade was widely encouraged. He'd grown up with that prejudice, and years as a pirate had only served to strengthen that hate. Silver was old, and had family issues of his own. The very treasure they'd all risked their lives tracking down was on the line now because Silver had a soft spot for this bastard. Scroop had been there. He'd seen Silver draw, had willed him to take the shot, but even then he knew the old cyborg wouldn't do it. _Gone soft_.

Jim had slipped below deck without ever looking over his shoulder, so following was easy. His dark coloring helped him to hide, his footsteps carefully muffled, as Jim made his way back to the longboat dock. He darted to a coil of rope, and pulled out something that looked exactly like the map. The arachnid realized, with overwhelming fury, that it _was_ the map. Jim clutched it to his chest.

"Yes," he sighed in relief. He pocketed the sphere and moved quickly back to the door, still completely unaware of his stalker. He went to one of the few remaining control booths, and with shaking hands he pulled open a compartment to expose a tangled mess of wires. Scroop's eyes adjusted faster to the faint light, and he crept up behind the boy as he frantically searched the wires.

"Cannons, cannons, cannons," Jim chanted under his breath as he fervently tried to recall what little he actually knew about the wiring and hardware of spacecraft.

And he would've let him get that far. Scroop would've allowed him the time to at least find the right wire before making a move, just for the sake of crushing that much more hope out of him. He didn't get the chance. Jim was reaching up over his head, trying to follow one wire with his fingertips. The map was too big to fit securely in his pocket- that was why Morph had been able to steal it earlier that day. Now, it slipped from the material of his pants and thudded to the floor before rolling lazily away. Jim cringed, and dropped to his knees in desperate attempt to grab the map. That was when he noticed the thin, spindly leg bracing itself next to the door. Jim froze, his blood turning to ice. To the spacer's surprise, he threw himself back against the wall, map forgotten, his body trembling uncontrollably. He opened his mouth to scream but only the smallest whimper escaped. He was trapped, and this psycho had no reason not to kill him.

"Cabin boy," Scroop growled, and now Jim was screaming, begging for Scroop to leave him alone, making promises he couldn't keep and all the while scooting back away from him, to the corner of the control room opposite the door. Tears trailed down his face and his chest convulsed with desperate gasps for air as he began to hyperventilate. Scroop took his time. After all, the mutiny had been sprung and they were the only two onboard. He was a damn pirate for crying out loud, he would enjoy every second of this.

Jim's frantic babbling gave way to words.

"I'll t-tell him it was me!" He swore. "I killed Arrow, it was my fault, I'll tell him!" Jim knew he wouldn't care about that. Deep down, he knew he was going to die if he didn't do something fast. But a bigger, louder part of him was flashing back to the larder, to being pinned down and helpless, vulnerable. He didn't want that again, or worse. The fear outweighed his humiliation.

"You did kill Mr. Arrow," Scroop leered. "You killed him the day you crossed me and got him involved. You're the reason he died." Scroop reached down and grabbed him by his upper arm, lifting him off the ground and off his feet as he squirmed and cowered.

"No, no, no no no no," Jim whimpered as he tried to pry Scroop's grip away.

Let'ssss ssssee," Scroop emphasized his lisp, mandibles gleaming threateningly in the faint light of the control room. "Sssspying on the crew...playing sssilly games...trying to sssabotage our carefully laid plansss..." With every infraction his grip grew tighter. "Ssstealing a ssskiff...no, both of them. My my, Cabin boy. Sssomeone's been-" Jim swung his free hand into the side of Scroop's neck as hard as he could. The Spacer hissed in pain, and when Jim pulled his hand away he was holding a bloody pair of wire cutters. Scroop dropped him out of surprise, and Jim lunged for the map, lashing out at the leg by the door. The cutters closed around the end of one long, skinny leg, crunching down with unrelenting force. Scroop screamed as the sharp metal cut into his body, and severed his leg. Jim was running before his feet even his the floor, already out of sight by the time blood began to flow.

The arachnid took to the walls, legs moving as fast as they could. He overtook the boy, beating him to the only set of stairs leading up to the deck. He swung out with the cutters again, but Scroop caught his arm, hurling him backward into a stack of crates. The wood splintered. Jim tried to get up, only to be met with a board to the face. Blood burst from his mouth, dribbling down his chin and shirt, but before he could beg his captor for any kind of mercy. It came again, this time to his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. The last crashed over his head, and as the thick, murky black of unconsciousness loomed ever nearer he heard a single, terrifying sound- Scroop was laughing. He felt his body being picked up, sagging like a broken doll. Scroop carried him into the dark, and Jim let go, praying that whatever hell awaited him would at least be over fast. He blacked out.

* * *

When Jim woke up he was in the brig. He was in the middle of three cells, and through the bars he could see three more empty cells across the cramped room. A set of steps led to a closed, and presumably locked, door. Jim pressed his back against the wall, feeling heavy iron shackles around one ankle. A shiver crept up his spine, through his arms and legs, until his entire body was shaking uncontrollably. In the dim light he could see dark stains on his hands and clothes, dark puddles on the floor and the steps. Blood. _He's gonna kill me_.

As if on cue, the door at the top of the stairs creaked open.

In one claw, he held a candle. He held it over the flame, eyes glowing as he watched the wick catch light.

"You're going to open the map." Scroop intoned. "Or we'll be getting...better aquatinted." Amelia began shaking her head violently. Jim swallowed, but her resolve gave him courage. He met Scroop's glare evenly, unflinching. And spat in his face.

A chorus of chuckles erupted from the pirates. Silver attempted to resume command but Scroop gave him a withering look that silenced him. He backhanded Jim into the cell bars.

"Jimbo-" Silver started again, but his voice died in his throat as his crew turned to him, their eyes shining with bloodlust and mutiny. His face hardened. "Ye shoulda listened to 'im lad." Jim felt his stomach sink. Not Silver. Maybe everyone else, even Delbert, but not Silver. He could stand everyone else abandoning him. He begged, pleaded, bargained with whoever could hear his frantic prayers, but his only answer came in the sound of the pirates retreating back up the steps, and Silver's cold voice as he said,

"Get it open. I don' care what it takes."

His heavy footsteps were louder than Jim's heart as it pounded in his ears. He'd been right to fear Silver thinking him weak. That was why he was leaving. Leaving him here to whatever horrors awaited him at Scroop's malicious...claw. It was then he realized he'd been sobbing quietly under his breath. Blushing in shame he looked up just in time to see the thick wooden club swing down at him. It slammed into his face, and Jim saw stars. His vision blurred, and his body went limp for the second time that day. He numbly felt Scroop tying his wrist to something hard and stiff. His other wrist and ankle were shackled. When his head stopped spinning, Jim realized his arm had been strapped to an odd table, and he was chained to a chair. The sleeve of his shirt had been cut off, the skin of his trapped arm exposed.

"I could peel the flesh from your body." Scroop chuckled, a hollow sound that chilled his bones. "I could cut the ligamentsss and musclesss from your body like a butchered animal. Sssnap your boness. Sssear your eyesss with a hot iron." He held something. A piece of fabric. He drew closer. "I could make you watch your blood run out until there'sss nothing left." He wrapped the blindfold around Jim's eyes, grabbing him by his throat when he resisted. Jim tried not to panic as he was cast into the dark once again, but his breath hitched. Scroop chuckled again. "But I'm sssure you'll find our gamesss more fun thisss way." Then he was gone. Jim held his breath, listening as hard as he could, but there was nothing. Not even the sound of his skittering legs. He waited for something to happen, anything, but as the seconds stretched on into minutes he was lulled into a false sense if security. His anxious anticipation was awarded with nothing but more silence. His arm ached, protesting the tight bonds around it, and he tried to stretch it. He could wiggle his arm, just a little. Pins and needles started to claw their way up his ankles. As Jim started to squirm, he noticed the sound of the straw rustling from his movements. Something odd happened. Those noises, repetitive and close, were him. His legs pulling at unseen bonds, his other wrist searching for a weakness in the chain. There was another noise, hidden beneath that.

 _Shhh, shhh, shhh_.

Jim froze. The silence returned. He forced himself to stay rigidly still, waiting. Listening. Nothing. He resumed his struggling, and there it was again. A noise that he knew wasn't him. He kept moving, trying to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. Scroop was still here, he had to be. Otherwise the door at the top of the steps would've creaked open or closed.

 _The door slammed shut and locked._

 _A dark chuckle came from above him._

 _Scroop slowly descended from the roof._

 _"Sssomeone needs to teach you a lessson, boy."_

The chains rattled as the raw panic brought him to helpless spasms. Sweat poured from his skin, feeling clammy in the stale air. Though his lungs pumped furiously in time with his heart, Jim couldn't breathe. A whimper broke out, turning into a small whine.

"Oh," the raspy voice crooned, almost soothing. "Hush now." The back of a claw trailed slowly down his chin. Under the blindfold Jim's eyes grew wide. The touching. In the larder. In the control room. It was happening.

"No," he whimpered. "Please, please don't-"

"Shhh."

"I'll do it, I'll open it, please let me go, please," Jim begged. He felt the claw slowly make its way down his shirt, finding the part at the collar.

"Good," Scroop growled. "But we have sssome unfinished businesssss." The claw disappeared.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" No reply. Jim couldn't hear anything over the sounds of his own screaming. He couldn't stop. He kicked and fought against the chains with all his might, feeling capillaries burst from the tight metal.

Searing heat covered the tender underside of his arm, burning knives stabbing and scraping as he screamed louder. Something was crawling up his arm, down his hand, into the tiny space he'd been able to wiggle his arm. It covered his arm, and he felt it start to crawl up toward his shoulder. His cries grew more frantic.

"It ssseamsss we've reached an undersssstanding." The pirate smirked. Jim only whimpered, nodding his head. "You'll obey my every command." He continued to nod. "Open the map."

"I will, I swear," he pleaded. "Just please, please stop, please..." He felt Scroop tug at the blindfold, and he winced as the light of a lantern temporarily blinded him. When he could see, he slowly dared to turn his head, fearing what he might see. His arm was covered in wax. The candle sat next to it, half melted with the wick still lit. What skin he could see was an angry, blistering red. He moved his fingers, wincing in pain. The skin felt too tight, even as the cooled, hardened wax cracked and broke away. Scroop picked up the candle again, with his other claw he forced Jim's head back. He brought the candle close to Jim's face, close enough that he could feel the heat on his cheek, and could smell his hair being singed. He pictures the molten wax dripping down his face. His whimpers began anew. Scroop brought his face closer, his breath ghosting the flesh of his neck.

"If you ever fight me again, I'll sssslice off your nossse, then your earssss, and your lipsss, with a russssted blade until you crave the releassse of death."

The wax flowed down the side of his neck and the part of his shirt.


	4. Deal

Warning: graphic torture. Blood.

* * *

The pirates took three days to load as much treasure onto the Legacy as they could. Through all of it, Jim never left the brig. After awhile, they threw the Doc and the captain into the empty cells, keeping B.E.N in her quarters to help navigate to one of Flint's hideouts.

"There was a boobytrap," Amelia droned out, her eyes not moving from the wall she'd been staring down since their imprisonment. "The whole planet was rigged to self-distruct. The bug spotted it before anyone could trip it. A damn shame." Her injuries hadn't been seen to beyond Delbert's first aid. Jim would've been concerned, if he hadn't caught the scathing look she'd given him when she'd been dragged down here, spitting and hissing like a rabid stray. Delbert hadn't said a word, just kept cleaning his glasses on his shirt. It was his fault. If he hadn't broken, they'd have come up with a plan. As it was, Amelia would be lucky to escape with her life, let alone her prized ship.

"All my life I've dreamed of an adventure like this." Delbert sighed, holding his face in his hands. "I can't believe I was...so useless."

"Not as useless as you might think, Doctor." Amelia groaned as she stood up, her breathing labored. "They didn't think to search us. There might be a way out yet." She slipped her hand into the folds of her uniform jacket, withdrawing a sliver of metal. A lock-pick. Dr. Doppler jumped up, his excitement clear on his face, and in his raised ears.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

"There's a problem. We've only one skiff, and unless we can find enough extra fuel, from what I can remember from the charts we'd never make it to the nearest port with all three of us."

"What do you mean?" Delbert asked. "You can't be saying-"

"One of us stays."

"Never." Delbert's voice was uncharacteristically cold, devoid of any emotion. Jim peered up through his bangs. "I promised his mother I would bring him home. Leave me instead."

"They don't want you!" Amelia pleaded. "They want him. He's the only one who can open the map. They'll need him, there's no way they'll get all that gold off this planet in one go. As long as he's of use to them, he'll live." Delbert shook his head.

"No! I won't!"

"Doctor, please." Amelia hissed. "It's less than ideal, but its our only shot." Delbert looked to Jim, his eyes desperate for another way. Jim knew what he had to do.

"She's right Doc." His voice was soft, almost a whisper. "You've got to try." A few agonizing seconds dragged by, Delbert's resolve crumbling bit by bit until he finally turned to Amelia.

"What do we do then?" She began rattling off a plan, something about old war allies and fuel cells, but everything around Jim began to blur and distort. They were leaving him behind. They were leaving him with Scroop.

His arm burned and itched, the pain long gone but the rash-like reddness remained, tender to the touch. Wax. He'd given into the demands of a bloodthirsty cutthroat pirate, surrendered the safety of himself and his friends, under the torture of _candle wax_. He'd have been embarrassed if he wasn't so disgusted with himself. They were right to leave him behind- he would only slow them down. He'd betrayed them enough as it was.

So Jim looked away as Amelia slipped the tiny file into the lock of her cell. After a moment, it popped open, and she moved swiftly to Delbert's cell. After his opened, she pocketed her tools and closed the cells behind them. No goodbyes were said as they crept up the steps. Jim could think of nothing to say. In the blink of an eye, they were gone. Jim curled up on his side, cradling his arm to his chest. His panic and hysteria began to grow as his confidence in their escape swelled, minutes crawling into hours of peaceful silence. He began to rock on the floor in an attempt to get a grip.

The first jolt of fear came at dawn, when he began hearing shouts above deck. He strained his ear to catch what Onus was shouting. A skiff was missing. He pressed his mouth against his knees to muffle the sound of his crying as the crew began turning over every inch of the ship, he could hear swearing and things being thrown around, heard a pistol discharge several times.

The door to the brig burst open with a gut wrenching _bang_. A slender figure Jim knew all too well skittered down the steps and walls. Jim's heart began to pound as he realized too late what was clenched firmly in Scroop's claw.

A ring of keys.

By the time Jim noticed the sound of footsteps and drunken voices shouting and swearing, Scroop's eyes had adjusted. He shouted that two of the prisoners had escaped, his eyes glowing with outrage. He turned, and his eyes found Jim in the darkness. Jim bit his tongue to stifle the whimper in his throat.

In an instant they were opening his cell, angry and demanding information. Scroop pinned him against the wall, twisting his seared arm behind his back. Jim began to struggle, but as his wound began to throb anew he froze.

"Where did they go?!" Turnbuckle shouted, appearing at Scroop's side after he'd gone to fetch something.

"About to find out." Scroop smiled, holding out his claw. Turnbuckle handed him something, right in front of his face.

Jim felt the blood drain from his face. He felt dizzy.

"No..." He moaned. They were the blood-stained pliers Jim had smuggled onboard the _Legacy_.

Scroop took Jim's damaged hand. He carefully pried his hand out of the fist he was making. Selected his middle finger, and clamped the pliers down on his nail.

The cuticle ripped away, as his nail was jerked and bent and twisted. Blood trickled from his mangled finger as the nail snapped in half, the other bit hanging on by exposed tissue. And through it all, he screamed. He shrieked and swore he knew nothing, that he'd seen nothing. The other pirates jeered and mocked him incessantly, urging Scroop to peel off another nail, or lop off a finger. The pliers pried Jim's pinky away from his palm, and found the nail. His fear turned to hysteria.

"No! NO! PLEASE!"

"What the devil do ye think yer doin?!" Silver thundered, shoving his crew aside. Jim felt his body go limp with relief. Scroop glowered at his captain.

"The captain and the doctor escaped in the night. He might've ssseen sssomething."

"I didn't I swear I didn't see anything, I don't know where they're going, I don't know anything!" Jim insisted. Silver's mechanical eye burned red, and he stared down at Scroop. Jim fell to the floor as the metal arm whirred and clicked, the huge mechanical vice clamping down on Scroop's neck. He lifted him in the air.

"Then what are ye wastin' your time in here fir?!" He roared, his voice making Jim's ears ring. Scroop angrily scrabbled at the arm, claws grasping for a hold.

"He'sss uselessss now. Not worth hisss weight in gold." The others began to shout in agreement.

"Bleed 'im out!" Birdbrain Mary jeered, jumping excitedly on her hands.

"Cut into tiny pieces!" Onus cackled. Jim curled on his side, shying away from the open cell door and retreating into the safety of his corner.

"You shite-brained dogs!" Silver berated, throwing Scroop to the ground. "The second the captain finds an outpost, it's only a matter of time before the entire royal navy is swarming this place! We got two laser cannons an a shit dozen rifles with next to no ammunition, and you _idiots_ want to waste what precious time we have down here?!"

"Even with the coordinates, it'll take them months to get to an outpost, and even longer to get back."

"Are ye daft?! There's a bleedin' portal, and Morphy's still missin'. He copied the map before, what if they got through it already?!" Jim felt his heart lift, hope welling up.

"We'd have noticed if the portal changed!"

"No, its closed!" Someone else shouted. At once, there was a stampede to the door- the portal to the treasure hadn't been closed since they'd found it. Even Scroop slunk away, his malevolent glare never leaving Jim. Only after he'd gone did Silver move toward the cell.

"Jimbo..." He said softly. "Lad, are ye alright?" Jim was staring at the far wall, his abused arm and hand cradled against his chest. A spasm of shivers attacked his body every few seconds, but his face was frozen in an expressionless stare. Silver hurried to his side. Sweat dotted his face, but his skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Silver reached for his wrist to check his pulse, but Jim snapped out of his reverie.

"Get off of me!" He kicked out, catching Silver's mechanical leg. The pirate narrowly caught his balance and Jim stood up, his legs like jelly, his eyes wild. Silver gave him a pained look.

"Boyo, I never meant for them to-"

"Whatever it takes, right?" Jim spat. "Just open the map." Silver winced.

"I was-"

"'Makings of greatness'," Jim scoffed. "All along you meant for me to die. For all of us to be executed on this goddamn planet." The fight seemed to leave him. His shoulders dropped, and he leaned into the corner, one pressed to coarse wood, the other to rust-flecked metal bars. His head leaned back and he laughed, a dry sarcastic cough. "What a joke."

"Jim I'm going to get ya out of here. They'll be in a hurry to move the treasure, I'll get ya somewhere safe. You and yer mother."

"If anything happens to her I swear to god, Silver, I will kill you."

"I'm tryin to _help_ ya, kid!"

"I don't want your help." Jim sneered at him, sinking down to sit with his knees to his chest. He looked down. His blistered skin burned and itched. His finger throbbed, the ripped nail still clinging to it, dangling on the end of a nerve. He sat on the wooden floor, and that was when he felt it. Something hard. _The pliers_. He scoffed at the irony. Silver came closer, thinking this was directed at him.

"We're pirates, lad," he sighed, as if this was supposed to explain it all away.

"Save it." Jim mumbled, closing his eyes and dropping his good hand to his side. "You closed the portal." Silver shook his head.

"I didn't. They must'a gotten away. They left ya lad, not me." Silver reached out to Jim, just as his hand closed around the handles.

Three things happened at once. The door at the top of the stairs slammed open. Silver turned his head. Jim swung his weapon with every ounce of strength he could muster.

Silver screamed as the metal was driven straight through his cybernetic eye. He lurched backward, tripping over and falling on his back. He scrambled out of the cell as Jim leapt to his feet. The intruder hurried doqn the steps as Silver kicked out, slamming the cell door shut with a heavy _clang_. The latch clicked into place, locking Jim inside just before he slammed against the door with all his weight. His face fell, devastation and betrayal shining in his questioning gaze before his face contorted into a sullen, vengeful mask. He retreated against the wall as the intruder approached Silver.

"Ssseems your little pet finally bit hisss mastersss hand." Scroop ignored Jim. Instead he watched as Silver picked himself up off the floor, grasping at his sparking, mutilated eye. He stared at Jim, half blind and genuinely shocked. His confusing turned to fury.

"So it would." He chuckled. The cyborg stood up, using the steps to regain his balance.

"The portal appearsss to have closed over an hour ago."

"Get the men ready." Silver ordered. "I want us headed for the first coordinates ye can squeeze outta that damned robot."

"Aye captain." Scroop turned to face Jim's cell. "And the boy?"

"Maroon 'im on the next asteroid we see." Scroop smiled.

"The crew knowsss, 'Captain'." Silver stared straight at the door, the casual smile firmly affixed to his features. "If you don't kill him, they'll mutiny. They know you're sssoft for him."

"He'll be dead before anyone could help him. No way he'd survive without food or water anywhere."

"I want him." At those words, Jim felt his mind behind to go numb. "The crew witnessed what I've in mind for him. He'll be alive. Or you try to ssspare him, and the crew maroons you instead. He dies, a long, sssslow, painful death."

"What do I get fir 'im?" Silver asked. Jim felt his stomach lurch, threatening to spill its contents.

 _He wouldn't_.

 _ **He would**_. Another voice in his head spoke up, louder than his. **_He's a pirate. He left you to Scroop before. I bet he knew the whole time._** After all, how could Scroop have left the galley...without going right past Silver?

"Not worth hisss weight in gold." Scroop smirked. "I'll convince them you've had a change of heart, and make sssure they don't kill you."

There was a beat of silence, then another. It grew into a pause, and in those precious seconds Jim dared to hope.

Silver tossed the key ring to Scroop.

"Deal."

* * *

n-

sorry for any typos or grammatical errors, i was too tired to beta. R&R.


	5. Plans

Short update is short. I tried to post a link in my profile for the names and pictures of the pirates of Silver's crew, but apparently you can't do that anymore. You can google it though, and I'd suggest having it open in another tab because until today I didn't know more than like maybe five of them. Jim is very ooc in this fic so far but it'll get better. You know, eventually.

* * *

Jim felt his head loll to the side, coming out of a fitful sleep. Dim light was peaking through the door, but from sunrise or sunset, he couldn't tell. His back ached, and his body was covered in painful scrapes and bruises. His mutilated fingertip was swollen and probably infected. He shuffled around in the straw, trying to get comfortable, or at least less uncomfortable. A sharp pain in his arm made him look down at it. The skin had festered and was now covered in blisters the size of his thumb, one of which had popped. He winced.

" _Ow._ " His voice was soft, almost a whisper. His throat felt dry, and his tongue was thick in his mouth. He rolled onto his side, then sat up. There had to be a way out of this. Amelia and Delbert had been gone for days now. How long would it take them to get help? Would anyone even believe them? Amelia's reputation aside, they'd been chasing after a fairytale. Jim tried to picture her explaining herself and swaying her superiors. Suddenly he didn't feel very hopeful.

He jumped as the door creaked open again, the familiar skittering of footsteps making his hair stand on end. Scroop had been down here every day since his capture. Every time that door opened, it meant a beating. Scroop no longer held himself back, and no matter how much Jim pleaded he wouldn't stop until Jim was nearly unconscious. Jim shut his eyes as his cell door was thrown open.

Scroop seized Jim by his hair, throwing him against the wall before grabbing his bad arm, sharp pincers lacerating blisters. Jim ground his teeth, but this time he didn't fight. Scroop was going to do whatever he wanted. Jim could at least _try_ to retain whatever dignity he had left, and if he didn't struggle maybe it wouldn't be that bad. The pirate took his mangled finger. Jim half expected him to snap it backward, or to slice it off. His claws were certainly sharp enough. Instead, he felt the claw gently snip off the remaining bit of nail and torn flesh. His hand throbbed in time with his pounding heart. When Scroop let go, he stood waiting.

" _Good_." Jim bit down on his tongue to hold back his sarcasm. "Sssomeone's learning..." The arachnid held up a bottle, pouring something over his hand. Only when the alcohol began to sear into his wound did Jim realize what it was. _Rum_. The alcohol splashed over the popped blisters and Jim hissed in pain. He winced, expecting some form of abuse but none came. Instead Scroop smiled at him, a familiar gleam in his glowing gold eyes that made Jim uneasy. The larder door flashed before his eyes, and it was only then that Jim fully realized that they were alone. His ankle was still shackled. Pins and needles ran up his spine as Scroop reached out and touched his chest. He felt the sharp point of his claw trace an invisible line down to the buckle of his belt. When he tugged at the belt, Jim snapped out of it, jerking away and tripping backward as the chains went tight. The pirate stood over him, still smiling. With a low chuckle he left, shutting the cell behind him.

Jim turned his head and lost what little had been in his stomach. For reasons he couldn't explain he felt dirty. Scroop had only touched his shirt, nothing else. Jim didn't care. He wanted to burn his shirt, wanted to shower in the hottest water possible, wanted to scrub his skin raw. Jim leaned his head against the wall.

Scroop pulled the door shut behind him, heading back to the galley.

It wasn't that he desired the boy in any way. Far from it; he found humans repulsive. No, he'd love nothing more than to gut him alive while that cyborg watched. He still could. He had time. Scroop almost couldn't believe Silver hadn't put up more of a fight, but the cabin boy _had_ just gouged out his good eye. It was safe to say they were definitely not on friendly terms.

He'd seen Silver coddle the kid. A man he'd helped to burn entire families alive in their homes had held a crying teenager with all the compassion of a nursing mother. He'd be back, and then Scroop would have that cyborg wrapped around his claw. For now, let the brat rot in his cell. He'd bother with him later.

* * *

Silver looked up from the maps and charts that cluttered the captain's desk. B.E.N was silent, his wiring having been disconnected after Silver had grown tired of his rambling. As annoying as he was, the android was proving to be rather useful now that his memory chip had been restored. At first he'd refused to help them until his new 'buddies' were safe. One of the crew had stepped forward and had threatened to shove his circuits into a vat of acid and make him drink what was left through a tube. Silver remembered the way the hunk of metal had trembled and leaked oil all over the deck. In the end B.E.N had cooperated, and they were now headed for one of Flint's hideouts. Turnbuckle had the helm, Onus was in the crow's nest, Mertock and Aguanoggin had the night watch. The rest of the crew was in the galley celebrating with rum and talk of what they would do with their share of the treasure. Silver should have been down there with them, but he couldn't bring himself to celebrate. So he'd locked himself in the captain's quarters- _his_ quarters- and had been pretending to chart a course for a distant planet. He sat back with a sigh, rubbing his one good eye. The lights were warm and bright but his eye still strained to make out the myriad of tiny lines before him. After so many years spent relying on his prosthetic eye, he was finding himself more and more at a disadvantage without it. He had to get it repaired, and fast.

Glancing back down at the star charts, Silver noted they would soon pass a small planet in a neighboring system. He'd been there before, and if his memory served him it was almost completely covered in water. The people who called it home made a living selling fish to spacers who traded there, as well as coral and glassware. Silver tried to remember if there was anyone who might be able to fix his eye, but thought better of it. No, they better not stop. As soon as Amelia got in touch with her peers, the pirates would need to either destroy or disguise the _Legacy_. He didn't doubt she had friends in high places. He imagined them returning, with only a skiff between them and missing an entire crew. He chuckled- her pride would take awhile to recover from _that_. _Always was too big fer her boots_. Delbert would most likely never sail again, the poor man, but then timid people like him belonged in their sprawling houses sipping tea. Space belonged to the men and women who stared death in the face and dared it to come for them. Like Arrow. Losing him had been a right shame. Sure, he hadn't been on their side and in hindsight maybe it had been a clever move to kill him early on, but damn if he wasn't a good spacer. Silver had seldom seen anyone so comfortable on the deck of a ship, save for-

 _Jim_.

He pushed all thoughts of Jim out of his mind. The boy had made it clear he no longer trusted Silver, and wasn't interested in his help. The cyborg's eye gave him only brief glimpses of his right side, sometimes in infrared, sometimes heat signatures. Most of the time it was only a dark void, just like when he'd lost that eye the first time. The useless scrap metal ball still sat and twitched in the socket. What kept Silver from going down to the brig to check on Jim, and what kept him from letting himself worry, was the thought of what Jim could've done if Silver hadn't turned his head. He shuddered, imagining losing his good eye as well if not something much worse. If there was anything Silver was better or just as good at as lying, it was holding a grudge.

He shook his head. Flint's trove, the legendary loot of a thousand worlds, was finally his after a lifetime of searching. He should be more worried about moving it somewhere safer. As long as the Captain and the Doctor were missing, his treasure was at risk. The entire empire would be on his ass as soon as the word got out, and that woman had a mind sharper than a new blade. She'd more than likely memorized their coordinates. They had to be ready, even if the only way to get at the trove was with the map. A fleet of ships could blockade the entire planet. _But how do ye go about movin' tha much loot?_ The _Legacy_ was an admirable vessel, but she was much too small to make much of a dent in the mountains upon mountains of wealth. It would take years, decades even. No, their best bet was to lay low for awhile. They would take what they could carry, and disappear. Even if the Captain and the Doc did manage to scrape together a rescue, without the map it was doubtful they'd ever find the planet again, even with their coordinates. After all, nobody had until now. The map was the key, and it was locked up tight in the vault not five feet from where he sat.

He'd buy a nice house somewhere, an estate. Upgrade his prosthetics. He'd buy his own ship, no his own _fleet_ of ships. He'd become the fiercest pirate the Etherium had ever known. Everything he'd ever wanted, just waiting for him. All he had to do was take it.

So why, then, was dread clawing at his gut?

* * *

R&R


	6. Wake Up Call

"Ludicrous. I'd have expected better of someone of your reputation-"

"I beg your pardon!"

"Gallivanting across the galaxy, wasting your time chasing fairytales when our best captains are trying to prevent another war with the Procyons. You of all people should know what's at stake here, and you expect me to what, snap my fingers and send my best men to play make-believe because you were too dim sighted that you hired a _pirate crew_ to-"

"I'm the one who hired the crew." Delbert interrupted. The lion-like felidae turned his accusing glare from Amelia to where Dr. Doppler stood by the door. His golden eyes narrowed.

"And it was you, I assume, that financed this fool's errand, was it not?"

"I did. From the beginning Captain Amelia was wary of my choice of crew. She told me as such before we'd even left Cresentia."

"And yet you still permitted these men to work aboard your ship?" Blake shook his head as though he were disappointed in her. "What did Mr. Arrow have to say about this?" Amelia gave him a cold look.

"Arrow is _dead_ , Admiral Blake." Her voice was sharp, her eyes daring him to continue. His bravado all but vanished, his ears folding back into his red mane and his eyes growing wide.

"...I'm so sorry," he finally managed to say. "I had no idea...what happened to him?"

"The star Pelusa went supernova. We were unlucky enough to be in the vicinity when it turned into a black hole." Her voice wavered, and she steeled herself. "His lifeline wasn't properly secured." Blake's eyes sparked with fury.

"How could that have happened?! Who-"

"Captain, for all we know someone could've untied his line. They're pirates, I don't think Jim is to blame." Delbert spoke up again.

"And Jim is...?" Blake prodded.

"Jim Hawkins. He's the boy who discovered the spherical map that led us to Treasure Planet." Amelia was silent. Suddenly her sling was fascinating.

"Wait, you found a map?" This caught his attention. Delbert nodded, the admiral's change in mood encouraging him.

"Yes! Or rather it found us. You see, pirates attacked the Benbow Inn- its a bed and breakfast on Montressor, run by Jim's mother, and earlier that night a ship had..." Amelia tuned them out. Her good name hadn't been enough to convince Blake, but talk of a treasure map was? A map they didn't even _have_. She shouldn't be surprised, really. After all, she'd had as much evidence when she'd agreed to this damned voyage in the first place. They couldn't help it. All spacers were alike. They came for the adventure.

"Where is he now?" Blake's voice broke through her train of thought. Delbert fell silent, grief and guilt rendering him mute.

"He stayed behind to keep the pirates off our trail." Amelia explained. "They won't kill him. He's the only one who can open the map." She should know. She'd tried too many times to mimic his movements only to have the blasted sphere remain tightly sealed. Delbert looked ashamed, his gaze fixed on his shoes and his head in his hands, but Amelia sat with her head held high. She wasn't at fault, she told herself. They'd left him behind because it was necessary. If he'd come with them, their skiff would still be drifting in space. But Amelia would be lying if she were to insist this was her only reason for doing so. Because, even if Jim _had_ properly secured the lines, it was still his fault. It was his map that had led them out there. His fantasy had cost her the life of her best friend.

She had been taken aback by her fervent animosity at first- Jim was only fifteen, a child. Over time however she had rationalized her actions. If she were being completely honest, she didn't much care what fate befell the Hawkins boy. Let those pirates he was so fond of do with him what they wished. Silver had taken a shine to him, anyhow. He'd look out for him.

"How long were you adrift?" Blake's astonished tone called her back to the present.

"A little more than a week." She replied. "The good ship _Stardust_ picked us up, and brought us to Parliament. Sir Morris recognized me, and sent us straight here. I apologize for the hour but you see why this couldn't wait until morning."

"Yes, of course. I'll send for help at once." Delbert seemed relieved.

"Thank you, Admiral." He nodded, and they stood to take their leave. Before Amelia could step out of his office Blake spoke up once more.

"He was a good man, Amelia." She froze. "His loss is a tragic one. He deserved so much better." His words were meant to comfort her, she knew, but they cut like broken glass. She didn't trust herself to speak, so instead she nodded her thanks, and left.

Arrow _had_ deserved better. And now, he deserved revenge.

* * *

"Six thousand pieces of silver, Silver!" The cyborg laughed at the joke for what felt like the eight hundredth time, careful to keep his mechanical eye hidden behind his makeshift bandage lest its crimson light betray his irritation.

"Ye never change, ye salty dog!" He laughed heartily.

They'd made it to Cornelius spaceport, a bustling, pirate-ridden city a safe distance away from Treasure Planet. Silver had dealt there for years, and had many contacts he knew he could count on. They'd only just made port night in the dead of night. Taelin laughed as well, his own cyborg parts buzzing and sparking as he bellowed,

"What kin I do ye fer?" Silver took this opportunity to slip his bandage away.

"Havin' a bit a trouble with this eye o' mine, ye see," he said as it almost fell from it's socket.

"Blimey!" The warthog-like alien squealed. "Ye done come to th' right place, mate! I'll fix 'er right up, come in, come in." He ushered the other cyborg inside, glancing up and down the street before shutting the heavy iron door behind them. Silver's organic eye strained to see in the dimly lit hallway. He reached a hand out in front of him, feeling his way along the wall. He could hear a series of bolts being secured in place.

"What's all that fer? Got some trouble?"

"Some dipshit tried to break in here last month. Didn't get nothin', but he got me Pariah." The short alien snorted a sigh. "Good un, she were. Took his leg off before he could slice her skull in half. Best damn guard rat a man could hope fer." He grinned cheekily. "I'm havin' her stuffed with the bastard's leg in 'er mouth." Silver chuckled.

"Of course ye are." He wondered sometimes how he'd gotten mixed up with people like this. Then again, there were stranger things than having a pet stuffed and mounted.

The shop had at one time been a home of sorts, one of several dozen row-style houses that made up the poorer district of Cornelius. Even now it was easy to pick out what would've been a nice dining room under the clutter and garbage. A rusted chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling, its candles long melted away, their glass cases smashed. Lengths of wire hung from the once-elegant branches, a tangled mess of poorly patched copper and steel running in all directions, feeding several dilapidated machines. They sat lifeless in the dark corners of the room, silent in the blackout. Oil stains had long since hidden the original pattern of the carpet, and the room was lit with only the glow of bioluminescent fish swimming in a large glass tank at one end of the room. Next to it was a chair. Taelin gestured to it now.

"Make yerself at home. Just let me get m'tools." He disappeared into another room(a sitting room, Silver guessed) and his guest obediently took his seat. The last time he'd been here, there had been five fish in this tank. Now there three, one red, and two gold. They rushed to his end of the tank, their clear eyes locked on the fleshy parts of his face, massive teeth snapping at the glass as their tiny front limbs scratched away. Ugly little things they were, but they were a reliable source of light on a planet that barely ever had power. Even the streets were dotted with tall lampposts holding thick glass bowls, irregularly restocked with the glowing fish. Nasty little shits they were. They could take off a man's hand in an instant.

"Now what th' devil happened 'ere?" Taelin hobbled back into the room with a sack over one shoulder.

"Recently hatched a mutiny, and I'm afraid the cabin boy wasn't so easily swayed." He hefted his prosthetic leg up onto the chair's leg rest, showing off the gash he'd patched, the half-assed seam already starting to pull apart. The hogman pulled a mask from his sack, flicking on the light on it's forehead plate. It flickered to life, and he made a face.

"Hope the little fucker paid for this," he scowled. "This was some of m' best work." He pulled a tiny blowtorch from his sack and set about removing the patch, melting the thick alloy as evenly as he could. "Was 'e th' one that fucked up yer eye?" Silver nodded. "Solaris have mercy tell me you gutted the brat."

"I left 'im fer the crew to deal with, believe you me he's payin fer it." Silver laughed, but it felt fake. His thoughts still tended to drift toward Jim, and he could no longer keep the worry from those thoughts. He couldn't help it. Jim was just a boy, and even though the pirates needed him, they only needed him to open the map. He only really needed his eyes and his hands, though he'd unlocked it so many times by now he could probably do it blindfolded. Silver had seen, on countless occasions, what his men were capable of. Every time he stood up to go down there, he saw Jim's eyes. They'd been guarded when he met the boy, but never had he seen so much unbridled hate before. There was something else there as well- fear. Pain. A flicker of hope. But so much hate. Always, that memory made him sit down, and go back to whatever it was he'd been doing.

"That takes carea that," Taelin tossed the blowtorch down, switching out the lenses that dangled over one eye. "Let me jus'..." With one savage tug he jerked the broken prosthetic eye free from it's socket. Silver winced at the sudden pain but said nothing. The hogman examined the metal ball, holding it closer to the tank to get a better look. He grunted before tossing it over his shoulder. "Cornea plate is trashed, retinal casing shattered, not to mention the damn optic wiring. Lucky fer you, I got somethin' much nicer- for the right price." Silver pulled a small satchel from his coat pocket and handed it over. The mechanic's prosthetic eyes grew wide as he dumped out four large rubies into his hand.

"Will tha' do it then?" Silver smirked.

"I believe it will," the other muttered. "How th' devil did you-"

"A private vessel, one o' them classy houseboats the nobles sail every now an' then. Easy prey out there." Taelin went to the other end of the room and pulled open a cabinet. Silver squinted, but with only his natural eye he could barely make out the lamp three feet from where he sat.

"A lucky find then?"

"Ye could say that." The hogman shuffled back to Silver's side with a box in his hands.

"Good parts this time. Real titanium, the best kind." He began to assemble the pieces together, never looking up from his hands. "Better cornea gel, and a fully operational lens disk." He set about connecting the tiny wires to the now-exposed circuit board in the mechanical socket.

Silver gripped the armrest of the chair tight, the flesh over his knuckles turning white. It wasn't that it hurt- he felt pressure, sure, but the nerves in that side of his face had gone numb long ago. Rather, it was the memory of having those parts implanted in the first place that made him cringe. As painful as losing the entire right side of his body had been, having bits of metal shoved into open flesh wounds was far, far worse.

"Ere we go. Give it a bit, then tell me whatcha see." Already the new eye was starting to function, and he could make out blurry shapes, though they were upside down. A moment later and they flipped right way around.

"Bit blurry, patches 'round the edges." The other alien tinkered with it for a bit until Silver was satisfied with the view. The new eye picked up detail in laser-like quality. From where he sat Silver could see scratch marks all across the walls, plain as day in the dark room. He turned to the fish again and aimed his laser sight into the tank, smirking as they scrambled after it.

"If anyone tears that hunk of metal outta yer ugly gob, I ain't makin' another one." Taelin snorted. "Damn near impossible to come by, titanium is." Silver put his hat back on his head and touched the brim with a nod, standing up.

"Thank ye fer yer time," he said, almost sarcastic, and the other laughed.

As Silver began the journey back to the ship, he tested out his new prosthetic piece. The dark streets around him, which before had been almost impossible to navigate, were almost as clear as broad daylight. Yes, he'd grown far too used to his mechanical parts. His leg felt better as well, the chamber doing its job to hold pressure and keep him upright. That boy had a good head on his shoulders. Twice now he'd near crippled him.

When Silver reached the docks, he paused, choosing to loiter about as he smoked his pipe. He'd been thinking about Jim all day. No matter how many times he'd push him out of his mind, his thoughts would always lead back to the boy. Now that his prosthetics had been repaired, Silver found his resentment had melted away. Jim had been angry, and he'd had a right to be. His dream had been taken from him, broken to pieces and violated. Had Silver been in his place he'd likely have done the same thing. Putting away his pipe, Silver made a decision. He would go talk to Jim. If any of the crew tried to interfere, he'd remind them that he was the captain, and they answered to him- not the other way around. He smirked. It had been awhile since they'd witnessed a good flogging.

Silver made his way to the brig, only passing Bird Brain Mary as she stood watch on deck. The rest of the crew was likely off scouring the port for cheap whores and strong drink, and while on any other occasion this would've pissed him off, Silver was grateful for it now.

Nothing could've prepared him for what he found. In the dark of the brig there was no way his biological eye would've picked out the dark blue, almost black bruises, or the fading but still visible lines that wrapped around his torso, but his newly repaired prosthetic eye could see every pice of straw in crystal clarity. Every scratch on his body, every dried blood stain was so clear it felt surreal. It took a second to register what he was looking at. The angle of those marks...Jim had done that. He was hurting himself, had been for some time. He could just make out several thin, pale scars. But as for the bruises, the burn marks, the dried blood around his face, all of that was the crew. No, it was Scroop. Silver was sure of it. Nobody else had much cared to visit their prisoner since they'd clapped eyes on the treasure, aside from their interrogation.

The cyborg felt his blood begin to boil. He searched his pockets for the key but then he remembered. _"Deal."_ He'd done this to the boy. By leaving him to face whatever cruel torture this sick fuck had in mind, he'd condemned him to a living hell. Silver felt a wave of naseua wash over him as past interrogations, executions, and worse flashed through his mind. He slammed his metal shoulder against the door with a deafening crash, but the lock held. Jim leapt to his feet, startled from his sleep. The shackle caught between his feet and he nearly face planted, but caught himself. He looked up in terror, expecting his worst nightmare, but when he saw Silver his mouth turned into a hateful scowl.

"The fuck do you want?" He spat. Silver's eye clicked and whirred as he studied the lock. He could blast it open, the metal wasn't thick enough there.

"Stand back lad," Silver grunted as he reached for his plasma cannon. Jim glared at him, and dropped on his ass right behind the door. "Jimbo what're ye doin?! We got ta get ye outta here-"

"Piss off," Jim hissed at him. "I don't want your help."

"Lad, who did this to ye? Jimbo-"

"Who do you think Silver? Go ahead, take a shot in the dark here." Before the mutiny Jim never would've dared to speak to him like that, but now he knew better. He'd feared the wrong pirate.

"I had no idea this was what he...I didn't know-"

"You watched him burn me." Jim reminded him. "You were there. I couldn't see but I could hear you."

"It was _wax_ , its hardly-" Silver caught himself but it was too late. Jim's stormy blue eyes sparked.

"Hardly what? Its hardly torture? Sure as hell felt like it but what the fuck do I know, right? I didn't lose a damn limb, so what do I have to bitch about?"

"Jim tha's not what I meant."

"Sure its not." He leaned back against the wood, arm cradled to his chest. Something shifted underneath him. Scroop had left the bottle of rum behind, and Jim had drank what little was left. It had been enough to numb his aching body and put him to sleep. The bottle itself, he'd kept. For a split second Jim considered smashing it and attempting to stab Silver again, but he dismissed the idea. He left it where it was, hidden in the moldy straw.

Silver's mind was ticking away like mad. He had to get Jim out of here, but how? He had to get the keys back, but short of killing Scroop he didn't see a way out that didn't involve his crew tearing them both to pieces. He meant what he'd told Jim. Pirates that went soft were dead men walking. But there had to be a way.

"I'll get ye outta this, Jimbo." Silver swore. "I'll get ye home." The boy bit his lip. It was clear he wanted to be mad at Silver, but the tone of his voice...

"It hurts," he whimpered, looking down. Silver felt a terrible pain in his chest.

"Ah know boyo," he soothed, reaching through the bars. Jim felt his lower lip wobble dangerously, and he hugged Silver's arm.

"Don't leave me again," Jim begged.

"I won't lad. Never again." Alarm bells were going off in his head, but the words had already left his mouth. His mother had been a strict woman, though she had always meant well. When he'd been little he'd tried to demand promises of her like this, and she'd always stubbornly refused. _"That's a piecrust promise, John,"_ she'd say. _"Easily made and easily broken. I'll not be made to lie to you."_ He hadn't understood until he was older. By then he'd lost her, but for the better part of his life he'd tried to do right by her memory. And then that blasted map had crossed his path, and Billy Bones with it, and that was the end of that.

"Where are we?" Jim asked.

"Cornelius. A spaceport out toward Kinapis." Jim frowned.

"Why?"

"I'm takin' the ship to one of Flint's special coves. We gotta hide her fer a bit, lay low until the heat dies down." The gears and cogs clicked and whirred like mad as Silver paced in front of the tiny cell. "I'll get ye away from him Jimbo, I'll find a way. Then we'll take as much gold as we can carry an' disappear, by the time any o' them figure out yer gone we'll be half way 'cross the galaxy." Jim opened his mouth, but closed it silently. He wanted to make him promise, to make Silver swear on whatever little he valued that he meant what he said, but he was afraid. A promise meant trust, trust meant hope, hope meant disappointment. Hope meant looking out the window every birthday since he was old enough to see over the sill, waiting for his father to come up the walk from the docks, only to be crushed when he finally realized that no, another year was going to go by without the one thing he wanted most. So he didn't. Instead, he listed as Silver talked, mostly to himself. "They'll be too busy drinkin' their gold and drowning in whores to pay us any mind. We'll go then." Jim bit his lip.

"But what about the captain? She'll be out for your head. If you take me home-"

"A problem for another day lad." Silver said with a wink. "I've gotten m'self outta more scrapes than ye could imagine." Despite the writhing feeling in his gut, Jim smiled. Silver's confidant grin wavered, but only for a second. There was too much fear in those wide blue eyes. Too much fear for someone so young. His eyes drifted again to the scratch marks, but he refrained from asking. Right now, Jim couldn't hurt himself. The crew were daft, but they wouldn't be stupid enough to leave him with a weapon. _A problem for another day_ , he repeated in his head. "I've got t' get back lad. Can't let anyone know I've been down here, best they think I'm ignorin' ye." Jim hung his head but nodded.

"Ok." Silver reached through the bars and gave his shoulder a final squeeze.

"Hold on lad. It won't be much longer."

* * *

note:

Admiral Blake was actually a character created for the sequel. Taelin, however, is an oc made up purely to fix Silver's eye. I try to stay away from oc's when I do fics. Let me know if this was too difficult to read.

R&R


	7. Confession

warning: more graphic torture

* * *

Even as a child, Delbert had been fascinated by space. His father had been quick to indulge his interests- the first birthday present he could remember getting from his parents had been a telescope. Something about the night sky had always had a calming effect on him. Now, however, as he stared out the window of his room the stars gave him no comfort. All he could think of was Jim. Tonight, the vast reaches of the Etherium were no longer promising, but daunting. Tonight, he wouldn't only be explaining his actions to himself, but to Sara.

He and Amelia had agreed. As long as the pirates were at large Montressor was not safe, not for Delbert or Jim's mother. The comfort of his home wasn't worth the risk. If Jim managed to escape, and Delbert was willing to bet his life that he would(if he hadn't already), that was the first place the pirates would look. While Admiral Blake was still skeptical about their tale he at least believed Sara to be in danger. Her inn _had_ been burned to the ground by pirates, after all. The constabulary had backed up Delbert's story. In fact, one of the constables had agreed to escort Sara to a rendezvous point, a small trading planet they'd reached earlier that evening. She was supposed to arrive any moment.

It had been decided that he would tell her what had happened to Jim, given their history together. They had been friends since Jim had been born. Delbert had even known Leland, though not as well as he knew Sara. And now, tired eyes searching the heavens as if he might find an answer there, he prayed that their friendship would be strong enough. That she would understand.

There was a knock on his door. Delbert set his glasses back on his nose with a sigh.

"Come in." One of the guards Blake had posted outside his room poked his head in the door.

"Mrs. Hawkins is here to speak with you."

"I'm expecting her, thank you." The guard disappeared, and a moment later Sara strode into the room. She pulled her shawl away from her face, her frantic gaze searching the room for a face she would not find.

"Delbert, where's Jim? Where's my son? Why have you brought me here, what happened?" Her questions ran together, making his headache worse. He went to her side and took her hands in his.

"Are you alright?" He asked. She nodded.

"Delbert, _please_. No one will tell me anything! Was it the pirates? Did they follow you?"

"Not exactly." He shook his head and led her to the small table in the room. "Please sit down. There's a lot I need to share with you." As soon as he'd said this the kettle began to whistle. He distracted himself with preparing the tea, using it as an excuse to gather his nerve.

She took the cup he offered her, letting it warm her hands, but she didn't drink. Instead she waited as Delbert poured a cup for himself and took a seat next to her her.

"I...naturally I hired the most upstanding crew I could find on such short notice. There weren't many, and my choices were limited. I chose what I thought was my best option. When we got to Treasure Planet-"

"You found it?" Sara gasped. Delbert nodded.

"Its real. All of those stories are real. What I didn't realize was that the pirates that attacked us, well...somehow they managed to disguise themselves as civilians. They were the crew I hired." Sara's eyes widened.

"What?! Delbert!"

"I hadn't the slightest idea, I _swear_. I thought I could trust Cresentia's security but I guess they had inside contacts. When we got to the planet, Jim discovered their intentions to mutiny as soon as we found Flint's trove. We got away from them, but Morph- he was a sort of pet of one of the pirates..." He told her about Jim's plan to get the map back, and about how he'd insisted on going alone. Sara's face grew pale. Delbert then told her about how the pirates had captured them. How they'd found the treasure, and how Jim had chosen to save his friends instead of joining the pirates, something no other young man in his position would've done.

Then came their escape. He'd been careful to keep his eyes focused on his teacup throughout his tale, and the glass had fogged up from the steam.

"Sara..." He took off his glasses under the pretense of cleaning them. In truth he didn't want to see the look her face. He just couldn't. "Jim stayed behind." He heard her sharp inhale, but forced himself to keep going. "He's the only one who could open the map, and he knew that if he tried to come with us the pirates would only track us down that much faster. He stayed behind to give us our best chance of getting away. You were brought here because if he finds another way out, the same pirates that burned the inn down would most likely swarm Montressor, looking for either him or you. You would've been in danger." He paused a moment, giving her time to collect herself. When he could no longer fiddle with his glasses for fear of snapping them in half, he slipped them back onto his face.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, fat droplets splattering on the tabletop. Her lip quivered and she dropped her cup. It smashed on the floor, sound making her jump.

"It's my fault," she sobbed. "He just wanted to make me proud. I pushed him, I wasn't there for him." Her shaking hands fumbled for the locket around her neck. She opened it and just as it had on that fateful night, the locket began to play a series of memories she'd collected over the years. All of them Jim, his smile as he grew up. "My poor baby..."

"Sara, no," Delbert took her hands again, squeezing them in an attempt to reassure her. "Don't say that. Jim is a brave, smart young man. He has a good heart, you know that. And he has you to thank for that." He wiped away a tear, and she looked up at him.

"I just want him back." She cried. "I just want my baby back." Delbert hugged her, and she clung to him as the last of her resolve melted away.

"I know," Delbert soothed.

"He's a good boy. He's always been a good son. I love him, I love him so much Delbert, I just want him back..." He held her close as she sobbed.

"We'll get him back, I promise. We'll bring him home. I'm so sorry Sara."

Amelia hesitated before leaving the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Neither of them had seen her, having been so engrossed in their discussion. Amelia had felt it was only fair that she be there. After all, it had been her plan. Delbert shouldn't have to take all the blame. She had dreaded the thought of meeting Sara Hawkins under these circumstances, as telling a parent their child was missing was never an easy task. So she'd gone to try and support Dr. Doppler.

But when she'd seen them there, holding each other...well, she'd felt as though she were intruding on them. It was only then that several things seemed to click in her mind. He and Sara were old friends. Delbert had probably gotten a lot closer to her since Jim's father had left them. It was only natural that they be in a relationship. Why hadn't the thought occurred to her before? She shook her head. At any rate Sara didn't seem to be mad at she or Delbert. Instead she'd been quick to blame herself, the poor woman.

Amelia returned to her own room, nodding at the guards outside before slipping through the door and bolting it shut behind her. Her eyes landed on the sextant sitting on her table. That was odd, as she hadn't left one there, but Amelia shrugged it off. Blake had probably left it, along with the charts she'd asked for. After flipping through them a moment, she realized that the star chart for their next waypoint was missing, and that she was going to have to go ask him about it. She sighed, and laid down on her bed. It had been a long day. A long _several_ days, actually. It could wait until morning.

She must've dozed off, because when her eyes opened again her room was dark, the lantern having gone out. Amelia reached for the light switch and flicked it on. Her eyes grew wide as she pulled the pistol from it's hiding place under her pillow, flicking the safety off.

The sextant was gone. Someone had been in her room.

* * *

Jim leaned his head back against the bars with a sigh. He'd decided he hated being in the brig. As a kid, he'd hated it when his mom had grounded him. There was nothing worse than being stuck inside all day, and as soon as he'd learned how to sneak out his bedroom window without breaking his ankles, she'd quickly learned that method of punishment was useless. Being locked up on a ship was considerably worse, especially when said ship was being captained by pirates.

A pipe seemed to have sprung a leak somewhere, he could hear the steam. He tilted his head with a frown as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. His eyes sprang open, a chill running down his spine that froze him in place. Not steam. Hissing. He held his breath and sure enough the titter-tatter of spindly legs clicked down the stairs behind him. Only when the shadow he knew all too well fell over the wall opposite him did Jim dare speak.

"I-I didn't say anything," he stuttered. "Like you said."

"Good."

"You said you'd let me out."

"What did he sssay to you?" Jim swallowed and looked down at his bloodstained boots.

"He just wanted to gloat about his new eye," he mumbled, trying to sound put off. Scroop's own eyes narrowed. He reached through the bars and lifted Jim by the collar of his ragged shirt. Jim winced as the sore, blistered skin of his chest was stretched painfully. The shackle went tight around his bruised and chaffed ankle.

"I think itsss time you and I became...better acquainted, don't you?" There was a mocking tone to his voice. He dropped the boy and turned to the door, pulling the key ring from his pocket and unlocking the cell. Jim could only watch as Scroop entered the cell. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Scroop pulled a strip of cloth from the pocket of the vest he wore. His mouth twisted into a wicked grin. Jim shook his head.

"No, please I-" Scroop backhanded him, then punched him in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. While the boy was dazed Scroop tore the remains of his short over his head, and shoved his hands into the shackles that hung on the walls. Jim squirmed, helpless, as the cloth was tied around his eyes, casting him into darkness. Jim clenched his jaw shut. He heard what sounded like metal sliding against metal, the mental image of his mother sharpening kitchen knives springing to mind.

The freezing steel sliced over his chest, and he felt his blood begin to seep from the wound, dripping down his torso. Again and again the sharp metal danced over his skin, severing blisters and ripping his skin open, but Jim refused to cry out. _Just another minute_ , he told himself. _Just hold out for another minute then give him what he wants._

It was then that the knife began to dance lower. And lower. As the pain got closer to his waistline his resolve seemed to crumble. Frantic squirming only rattled the shackles around his wrists. He began to plead, to try and barter for the torture to stop, and when that didn't work he tried shouting for help. When no one came he started to cry. The knife dug deeper, sending pain shooting up his side. Jim cried out, dissolving into hysterics. A sound reached him over his own wailing.

Scroop was _laughing_.

It was an ungodly sound of its own accord, a rasping, rattling noise, like a cat choking on a hairball but so much more malicious. Jim felt cold. A voice in his head was shouting that he was bleeding out and he was going to die, but that voice was being drowned out by a rushing sound. His mind felt like it was shutting down. He felt dizzy.

The blindfold was ripped away. Jim blinked as his eyes readjusted, then, despite the wave of nausea that gripped his stomach in painful knots, looked down. He felt relief wash over him, there was no blood. Only water. Confused, he peered up at his tormentor to see the pirate was holding a large shard of ice, about the length of Jim's forearm. Its sharpened point gleamed in the lantern's light. On the ground beside him sat a real knife, and a metal rod used for sharpening them. Scroop brought his face so close to Jim's that the boy almost gagged from his rank breath.

"If I find out you're lying, boy, you'll learn what real pain feelsss like." Scroop unlocked his hands, ignoring him as he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Too dazed to move Jim listened as the cell door was locked. Scroop took the only lantern, leaving him in pitch black darkness. Jim stared at the ceiling, unblinking.

He should be grateful. He should've been thanking whatever power was keeping him safe. But the truth was that every encounter he walked away from virtually unscathed left him even more on edge than the last. Pirates could only stave off their bloodlust so long. How could Jim know what to expect? Would he be tied to a post only to have rotten food thrown at him, or would Scroop shred his flesh with a whip? Would he blindfold him, restrain him, and cut off his fingers and toes, or would they burn him with the end of his cigars? These games couldn't last forever, and Jim wasn't ready for real pain. Everything he'd been through had been child's play compared to what these men were capable of.

Fuck the treasure. Fuck Billy Bones, fuck that damned map, none of it was worth this. Jim wished he'd never heard those stories. He wished he'd gone to juvenile hall instead. A part of him wished he'd left that spacer on the docks to die. Curling up on his side, Jim buried his face in his shirt. When he thought no one would hear him, he started to cry again, his terrified sobs muffled by the fabric.


	8. Keres

Jim glared through his bangs as he scrambled to clear the piles of dirty dishes from the tables. No, 'dirty' was too gentle a word. Old food had been left to mold and spoil. The stench of rotting meat turned his stomach. Back home, his mother _never_ let dishes get this bad. He was beginning to realize why the crew hadn't minded his 'release'. He was still the cabin boy, and besides, no one else wanted to clean up the galley. With Silver as their captain now, he hardly had time to bother with it, though he still cooked on occasion. If he didn't the crew would've had to get by on the swill Mertock called broth. The horned alien could probably couldn't tell the difference between a radish and his own mother.

A piercing glare caught Jim's attention and he dropped his head, scurrying back to the kitchen. His ankles had been bound by thick leather cord, barely giving him enough slack to walk. Scroop hadn't strayed far from him since their last encounter, practically hovering over him. Though it made Jim increasingly uncomfortable, the pirate wasn't really paying much attention to him, so in hindsight maybe he should count his blessings and ignore him.

A loud thud on the other side of the wall startled him, and he almost dropped the pot he was washing. He rolled his eyes and scrubbed furiously at a mold spot. Amelia may have discouraged brawls, but Silver either didn't care or couldn't be bothered. Since Jim had been let out of the brig a week prior, he'd lost count of how many fights he'd seen break out. At one point Mr. Zuff had thrown Bird Brain Mary against the wall, and Onus had bitten multiple spacers. It turned out the slug had chiseled his teeth to sharp points. Those had been mere scuffles, however. Headly had stabbed Verne with a butter knife, and had impaled one of his suction cup-like hands on a table. On another occasion Aguanoggin had attempted to garrote Grewnge, and while the pirate lived the crude weapon had left deep cuts on his neck. These brawls were getting worse.

Jim wrinkled his nose as his hand touched something slimy. Wiping the filth on his apron he surveyed the area and decided he'd done enough for now. He was just about to take a break when a shout broke above deck.

"Planet ho!" Jim jumped up, joining the pirates as they crowded onto the deck. Through all the shoving and limb-flailing, he kept his balance. The skies around the ship were a dreary gray, thick with nebula clouds. He moved closer to the side of the ship, squinting in an attempt to make out a planet or port. Two planets loomed in the distance, their silhouettes shadows against the twilight and growing fainter as the clouds grew thicker. He looked down, and could just make out what must've been a mountain, growing larger as they drew closer. Thick layers of fog obscured the view the surface, and suddenly those heavy clouds gave way to curtains of mist. Below them lay the remains of volcano, a labyrinth of mountains twisting into the distance, and forests so thick they completely concealed the ground. Jim had heard stories of places like this, of mountains and trees but he'd never seen anything like it in his life, not even on Treasure Planet. The view took his breath away, even at night. Straining his eyes, he tried to make out anything else, but there were only shadows.

There was a muffled cry from the crows nest, but Jim didn't catch it. The rest of the crew seemed to have heard Onus just fine, as they all froze.

"Well?" Silver shouted, oblivious to their unease. "What are ye waitin' fer?!" Onus scurried down from the crow's nest, his body aquiver.

"Be-be-below us, Capteen," he stuttered. Silver moved to the bow of the ship, pulling his spyglass from his pocket and putting it to his prosthetic eye.

"What the devil- Turnbuckle!" He bellowed. "Take us higher! Grewnge, man the cannons!" The cyborg grabbed Jim by his shoulder as he passed, shouting orders and sending his crew bolting for their stations. Scroop made to intercept them, but Silver gave him such a venomous look the arachnid let them pass. Once in the stateroom Silver let go of the boy. Using his shoulder, he shoved the cabinet he'd been using to barricade the door back into place. He really needed to get that blasted door repaired.

"Why did you do that? You know he's gonna be pissed!" Jim hissed, panic in his eyes. Silver shook his head.

"Get yer robot friend back in the land o' the livin!" He bellowed, probably more for the benefit of anyone eavesdropping than Jim's. The boy scrambled to the heap of metal behind the captain's desk. Silver hadn't done any real damage to B.E.N, only disconnected his power supply, and after reconnecting a few wires the robot's eyes flickered, glowing as his processor came back online. His mouth shuttered and sparked before his voice box came back to life, words garbled in static. He blinked, staring dazedly up at the pirate. Suddenly his body went rigid.

"C-captain." B.E.N stuttered, his electronic voice almost devoid of emotion. Jim felt his stomach sink- sure, B.E.N was annoying, but if Silver had damaged him-

B.E.N's eyes turned to him.

"Oh, Jimmy! You came to rescue me!" B.E.N shouted, leaping into his arms, erasing his concerns and leaving Jim relieved, if a bit vexed.

"B.E.N, _not now_ ," he muttered as he put the robot down. "We have a problem." Instantly B.E.N's euphoria turned to panic.

"Oh no, we're all gonna die, I never even got to see the rings of Kirrian, please sweet powers that be, spare me-" Jim clamped his hands over B.E.N's mouth.

"We're _not_ going to die!" He spat. "We..." He paused, and turned to Silver, who was consulting the sextant and one of the charts. "What exactly is the problem again?"

"That rusted heap o' bolts led us into a trap," he growled. B.E.N gasped, a hand touching his chest in an offended manner.

"I would _never_."

"Belay yer bullshit, there are ships down there, patrolling the damn planet!" Jim felt his heart begin to beat wildly. More ships? How? Nobody was supposed to know where they were going. Had Amelia and Delbert been able to track them somehow?

"Of course there are, its a trading port." B.E.N said, as though this were obvious. "Why wouldn't there be?"

"Ye said nothin' bout a trading port! This is a captured vessel ye imbecile, the constabulary will be on our arse before ye can scream fer yer mother!" B.E.N blinked, looking genuinely confused.

"What constabulary?"

"What in blue blazes do ye mean?!" Silver's eye was glowing. Jim shied away, unnerved. This new eye, while still obviously mechanical, looked much more human. The unnatural glow behind the fake sclera was unsettling to say the least. "You said this was one of Flint's hideouts, ye didn't say anythin' about there bein' other people here, so start talkin' before I rip you apart with my bare hands!" Something seemed to clik in B.E.N's mind.

" _Waaaaait_ , you've never heard of Keres?" He asked. "You knew about Flint's trove but not Keres?"

"B.E.N what the fuck are you talking about?" Jim deadpanned. B.E.N's eyes flashed as he retrieved the information.

"Keres was- and apparently still is- a trading post for pirates and mercenaries from beyond the frontier. Back in Captain Flint's day, it was the most prosperous underground market chain in known- er, _unknown_ \- existence. Very hush-hush. Back then piracy was just getting it's start in the Terran Empire, and since you've never heard of it I'm guessing word never traveled that far."

"So you pointed us in the direction of a damn near ancient pirate outpost?" Jim summarized. B.E.N hesitated.

"If its security you're worried about, you'll be accepted with open arms. The map is regarded as Flint's personal seal. You show anyone that and they'll be obligated to grant you safety."

"And you're sure about that? Even though it's literally been hundreds of years since you've been here?"

"Yep!" Jim gave Silver a dubious look. The cyborg chewed his lip in thought. Finally he sighed.

"I want to know everything there is to know about this planet." B.E.N drew a deep breath, ready to comply, but this time Silver held his mouth shut, his mechanical vice clamping down on his metal jaws. He looked to Jim and nodded at the door. "Ye best leave boyo." Jim gave him a look.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"It'd be better if ye didn't know about te planet at all t'en knowin' somethin' that could get ye killed." Jim rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." Silver sighed. He let go of B.E.N(though not before giving him a pointed glare) and moved the cabinet away from the door, letting the sullen, sulking teen out of the stateroom. When the barricade had been replaced, he turned back to the robot.

"Now tell me 'bout this planet. And so help me, if you happen to 'forget' to mention any other details, I'll use yer circuits fer cannon fodder."

B.E.N. gulped.

* * *

They waited until dark, using the thick clouds to hide from the patrols. Finally Silver and B.E.N emerged from the stateroom. The pirates scrambled for their stations, and Turnbuckle took the helm. B.E.N assumed his role as navigator, surveying the electronic panels to Turnbuckle's side.

"Heading 2283. Find the ridge, follow it down." All was silent as Turnbuckle followed B.E.N's instructions save for the creaking of the ship. "Bring her down easy, straight into the trees." The pirates exchanged wary looks, but Silver barked at them to get to it. Slowly the Legacy descended into the forest. Boughs of trees whined and snapped, most of them clawing at her haul. B.E.N cringed. "He used to keep it so neat..." He muttered, probably talking about Flint. The forest around them suddenly turned to a vast canyon, hidden by the lush forest and snaking its way beneath the surface. Silver whistled with approval, noting the jagged metal spires that jutted out from the canyon's walls. Any vessel that tried to enter here without a map or guide would most likely be torn apart. The shredded haul of a ship dangling from one such spire seemed to prove him right.

The ship emerged from the canyon, the ground below the ship dropping away to reveal a deep gorge. Ahead of them, hidden from the sky by the tightly woven canopy lay a town. Silver squinted, bringing the port into focus. Ancient wooden docks reached toward them like decrepit fingers, crooked and rotting, held together with tar and rope.

Shambling buildings were stacked on top of each other, crammed together like crates on a freighter. Walkways comprised of rope bridges, gangplanks and crossbeams created a weblike pattern over the gorge, some as high as the trees.

There were pirates everywhere. A few seemed to be alarmed by the shape and color of Silver's captured ship, but when they saw the black flag they seemed to calm down a bit. Still, the Legacy's presence seemed to cause unease- the usual noise of a harbor was muted, subdued, and all eyes were on her.

Before long the _Legacy_ had been docked. Silver picked three men to accompany him ashore- Scroop, Mertock and Grewnge- but before they could set foot on land they were met by a gang of towering figures.

"What business do you have here?" One demanded. Silver did his best not to stare. The alien that stood in front of him was massive, about as tall as Hands had been. This was where the similarities ended, however, as this alien's skin was a light brown color. Its head was shaped like a man's, but large tusklike bones protruded from it's jaw. It had six eyes, three on either side of its face, jet black and piercing. When it spoke its voice rattled in its throat.

"Me an' me crew be lookin to trade." Silver said with a friendly smile. The alien in front of him sneered down at them.

"We don't trade with Terrans. Get off our planet." He brandished a wicked looking scimitar, and his friends jeered their support. Silver caught Scroop's eye, giving the arachnid a sly smile.

"Ye don't say." He sighed, feigning disappointment. "Oh well. Guess ye won' be wantin' this then." He pulled the map from his pocket. The smug smirks and leering grins vanished, replaced with slack-jawed disbelief. Shouting dissolved to whispers, and Silver could've sworn someone actually muttered a prayer. The alien studied the pirates in front of him, his eyes wary, but he finally returned his blade to its sheath.

"Where did you get that?" He growled.

"A lifetime o' searchin', not without a few bumps in th' road." Silver pocketed the map. "No' I got me a walkin' pile of rust that tells me this trinket means somethin' to ye." The alien nodded solemnly.

"It does." He held out one massive arm in the direction of the odd looking town. "But here isn't the place to talk about such things. Please, come with me." Silver winked at his crew, and shouted an order over his shoulder that no one else had better dare leave the ship. Ignoring the heated glare Jim was aiming at him, Silver tugged the brim of his hat lower and followed the hulking alien, his men in tow.

* * *

note- sorry this took so long, im trying to get a better feel of this world. also sorry its so short, but don't worry, this story is still in progress.


	9. Escape

warning- themes of slavery, alcohol, strong language, and a dash of gore.

* * *

Onus opened three of his eyes to a blurred visage of women, all passed out on the cushions around him. Two of them were chained to the iron rings on the floor, but despite this they'd been quite pleasant.

More than pleasant, actually, if his ale-addled memory served him. A smile spread across his face as the highlights of the past night resurfaced. He had to admit, when Silver had left the crew at the docks he'd had his doubts. They way the strangers were studying them, staring them down like starving strays eyeing up an easy meal, he'd have been the first to abandon ship if things got ugly. But not an hour later he and the others had been seated at a feast fit for kings. The drink was sweet, the women sweeter, and even now the usual pains that came with so much drink were nowhere to be felt. This planet was hospitable if nothing else. He was foing to miss it when they left. But then again, why leave? They were kings- nigh, _gods_ \- here. He'd seen the way the...donish? No, Domid. Whatever, he'd seen how they'd treated Silver when they'd come back to the ship. Whatever the ursid had told them, it had worked a small miracle.

One of the chained women moved in her sleep, pulling her mussed hair away from her fine-featured face and the pointed tip of her ear. Onus remembered her now, the silent one, the first to fall asleep, thoroughly intoxicated. He moved, whether to wake her or grope her he hadn't yet decided, but something bumped his side as he shifted. A corked bottle, sloshing seductively. Onus grabbed at it with greedy hands- the sleeping women weren't going anywhere.

* * *

Jim ground his teeth as a strangled noise escaped him, almost inaudible for the sharp crack of the lash across his back. There was a thump as the whip dropped to the floor, probably forsaken in favor of whatever the strangers had given the crew. Jim hadn't tasted it, of course, but Mertock had spilled a goblet of it in a sloppy toast- a gold, jewel-encrusted goblet at that. It was tinged pink and smelled sweet, whatever it was, and there seemed to be a never-ending supply of it. All he knew was that Silver and his two lackeys had returned with casks of the stuff, as well as more than a dozen whores, crates of fresh fruit, racks of smoked meat that made his stomach ache and growl, and much more. One by one the men had drifted off, and at some point he'd been dragged ashore to an inn. The pirates of the harbor had gone from cold and unwelcoming, to greeting Silver's crew like lifelong friends.

How an entire crew of hardened criminals had so quickly abandon any sense of caution was beyond him, but Jim found he couldn't care less if they all turned up dead in the morning. He strained against the silk scarves that had been expertly tied to his wrists, one securing him to a bedpost, the other the locked doorknob, but they held just as strong as the chains in the Legacy's brig. Either that or he'd just grown that weak. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything that wasn't soggy, covered in mold, or crawling with maggots.

A snore startled Jim from his haze. He slowly turned his head, half expecting a lash to the face, but Scroop was lying near motionless on the bed. Jim had spent months sleeping in the same room as the lot of them- he knew by now which of the pirates snored, and Scroop was always silent. He eyed the half-empty bottle on the night table warily.

Whispers outside the door caught his attention. Straining his ears, Jim tilted his head to try and make out what was being said, or who was speaking. The rattling, rasping noise behind him drowned out the voices, and then they were gone. Jim pulled at the scarves again, wincing as his wrists protested painfully. Just as he gave up, going limp against his bonds, he heard something pop. Heart racing, he turned his head to see the frayed threads he'd managed to tear. His determination renewed, Jim struggled with all his might. The scarf tied around the bedpost finally gave way, tearing in half with a loud rip. Scroop's snores suddenly stopped, and for a few terrifying seconds, Jim was sure he was in for a world of hurt. The pirate shuffled in his sleep, and Jim thanked whatever higher power was looking out for him as the snoring continued, albeit not as loud.

Crawling on his knees, Jim moved to the door, pulling the remaining scrap of fabric from his wrist with his teeth. As he fumbled with the knots on the other scarf, he peered through the keyhole. There was someone at the end of the hall, just out of sight. He could make out blue-tinged skin, and the voice was closer now.

"...should sleep through the night. None the wiser. Not what we planned, but their ship might outrun the clippers," a woman was saying. Another voice, this one male, snapped back at her.

"The watchmen will know something's up. Those casks were meant for _them_ , not these pathetic terrans. Their fat captain is holed up in the harbormaster's own house- what's he going to do when his ship just up and vanishes from the docks?!" Jim frowned. So the ale was drugged. No wonder Scroop was sleeping so soundly.

"What choice do we have? People will know something's wrong by the time they wake up."

"This wasn't the _plan_." He hissed. "We can't get them out. Not with the watchmen awake. Its too risky..." the voices faded as the pair moved further down the hall.

With one last tug, the last knot gave way. It took all his self-restraint not to leap to his feet. Heart pounding, he rubbed his wrists, wincing. Cautious, he stood and slipped the tattered remains of his shirt over his head, wincing as it came into contact with his blistered skin. His eyes darted around the room. The key lay on the night table, next to the bottle. He crept close, his knees trembling and slipped the key into his hand. The lock seemed to turn painfully loud, but the slumbering pirate didn't stir. Once he'd gotten out of the room Jim relocked the door behind him and slipped the key into his pocket. That would buy him some time.

The hall was dark, the gas lamps turned down low and casting long, quivering shadows. Every door that he passed he half expected to be thrown open and for some enraged alien to attack him. He could hear nothing but faint snoring, muffled by the walls and doors.

The hallway ended at a landing, and down the grand spiral staircase Jim could see a number of aliens spread out in the room, lying on cushions and surrounded by scantily clad women and empty bottles. The air was so thick with the sweet scent of incense it made Jim feel light headed. As an afterthought he covered his nose and mouth with the torn collar of his shirt. The large front door stood slightly ajar, the black night outside seeming to suck out what little light there was. Jim spied a blanket tossed aside on the floor and snatched it up, slipping it over his head before carefully making his way to the door.

Once outside he kept his head down, forcing himself to walk casually toward the docks. His mind raced- where could he go? What should he do? There had to be a way off this planet. If he could stow away on another ship perhaps, or even steal a longboat, maybe he could make it to another spaceport. It was a stretch, but if he stayed here someone would eventually find him.

One thing was for sure, he needed a weapon. And as of now there was only one place he knew of where he could get one. One of the large kitchen knives in the Legacy's galley would do until he found a sword, or even a pistol if he were lucky.

There weren't many aliens around. There were a few here and there, some stumbling from one tavern to another, but the shanty town was almost deserted. Sticking to the shadows Jim was able to make his way back to the docks. He peered around the side of a brick wall, the blanket still over his head. As with the rest of the town, the docks were fairly deserted, save for one figure on the short bridge overlooking the multiple piers. There was an alien keeping watch, cleaning the blade of a sword absently with a strip of cloth. Every so often he withdrew the pipe from his mouth to exhale a cloud of smoke and let his eyes roam the harbor before resuming his menial task. There didn't seem to be a way around him. In order to get to any of the ships Jim would have to cross the bridge or scale the stone wall separating the town from the docks. It wasn't much taller than he was, and he could be up and over in the blink of an eye, but if the watchman saw him he would definitely become suspicious.

Jim steeled himself, preparing to chance it, when bells began to sound, the shrill clamor shattering the peaceful night. The guard looked up from his blade and jumped to his feet, scanning the docks. Jim backed up against the wall, cursing his luck. More bells began to ring- an alarm was being sounded. But why? _Scroop,_ he realized with dread. _He woke up. They're after me_. Pirates began pouring from their ramshackle homes, shouting in the native language. Though Jim couldn't understand it, he knew by their tone they were angry. The watchman cast one last glance over the docks, then sprinted down the bridge to talk to a group of men. Taking what might prove to be his last chance, Jim darted down the docks and up the _Legacy's_ gangplank. Something flickered in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head. His jaw dropped as he stared at the brilliant flames licking the night sky, dark clouds of smoke billowing into the air. A blessing in disguise, as the pirates would likely be more concerned with the blaze than a missing prisoner.

Jim ran to the galley, and reached for one of the cleavers Silver used to cut meat, but hesitated. A knife like that was better for chopping, not so much stabbing. He grabbed a smaller, serrated knife and tucked it into his belt.

Just as he was about to leave he heard voices on deck. His heart skipped a beat as they grew louder, closer. Jim ducked into the small storage room, holding his breath. The strange language, panicked voices, and what sounded like crying. Jim didn't dare risk peaking out from his hiding place. He knew he had to find a better place to hide, but the only place he could reach was...

He glanced at the door, icy claws creeping up his back. Memories flashed before his eyes. He knew Scroop wasn't here, but his stomach lurched at the thought of being trapped in the larder again. More voices began to echo from the galley. He had no choice. Jim ran to the door as quietly as he could, slipping the bolt behind him and waiting in the dark.

Time seemed to drag on, and a few moments stretched into what felt like hours. No one came looking for him, the voices didn't come any closer. Suddenly the ship roared to life, lifting into the sky so fast everything flew off the shelves around him. A sauce pan came crashing down on his head, and Jim saw stars. He crawled across the floor to where he'd hidden before and pulled his knees to his chest. Why was the ship moving? And why so quickly? The conversation he'd overheard came back to him. Whoever it was had been planning to escape, apparently on the _Legacy_. Hope lifted his chest- they could get away. After they were far enough away from Keres Jim might even get them to take him home.

There was a terrible noise, a blast, the screech of tearing metal. The ship shuddered and jerked violently to one side. Screams erupted from the galley. Whoever these people were, they were being pursued. The ship banked hard to port, sending Jim's stomach to his knees. The _Legacy_ was far too big for a maneuver like that. There was another blast, and this time the ship began to drop. For a few terrifying seconds Jim wondered if he'd survive the crash he knew was coming.

The ship met the ground hard, a deafening crash that seemed to shake him down to his bones. His teeth rattled in his head, screams came from the galley, and the ship continued to quake. Then there was silence. Gunfire. Screams. Jim smelled smoke, heard thunderous voices shouting just outside. They'd been caught.

Jim knew he didn't have a chance. Even before the heavy footsteps approached the locked door. Still he prayed, he begged, that he'd be safe. He'd have sold his soul if it were possible. One of them beat down the door. The towering alien looked around, searching. Jim bit down on his tongue so hard he tasted blood. The alien got down on the floor to peer under the shelves, and saw him. He reached for the boy, his massive hand clamping down on Jim's arm and dragging him out from under the shelf. Jim struggled, trying to fight. He kicked out, raked his nails over the alien's skin, but all of it was in vain. On the deck, there were dozens of aliens. Their skin was pale, their eyes brilliant shades of blues, greens, even purple. They must've been who had stolen away on the ship. There were mothers and children in the crowd, some were holding crying babies. The alien holding onto Jim relaxed his grip fir a split second and Jim tore away from him. He'd only made it five steps before he was jerked backward by the neckline of his shirt and hoisted into the air. The hulking aliens were rounding the smaller ones up, dragging even more from below deck. Jim's captor looked to one of his friends.

"Don't recognize this one."

"Ah think 'e was wit th' terran crew. Musta ran off wit th' slaves." Another replied. The word echoed in Jim's head. _Slaves_. So that was why they were trying to steal a ship. They had been trying to escape, just like him.

The darker, stronger aliens continued to scour the ship, dragging up every slave they could find. When they'd seemed to have cornered all of them, one woman was dragged forward. Her skin was a soft grayish blue, and her silver hair was braided back, exposing her pointed ears. Her eyes were a burning gold, and shaped like almonds. They were elves.

"You've been nothing but a pain in the ass." One of the captors spat at her. "Well that ends now, you wretched cunt." An older woman began to scream, desperately pleading for them to spare the rebel, to take her instead. The captors ignored her, and the few others who dared speak up. The rest of them watched in solemn silence.

Jim could only watch, frozen, as the two aliens held the elven woman between them. A third approached her, his polished blade gleaming in the light of the moon. She held her head high, refusing to cower or beg for her life, her venomous glare unrelenting. The blade was plunged into her neck, a sick, wet gurgling noise sending shivers down his spine. He tried to turn his head away, but his captor grabbed his jaw and forced him to watch as her blood began to flood from the wound and from her mouth, trailing down her quivering body and pooling around her feet, staining the deck. She gagged, spraying scarlet as she choked. He stared as the life slowly drained from her eyes.

Everything was a blur after that. He heard the voices of the taller aliens and the angry shouting of their captives, but it was muffled and muted, sounding far away. He felt himself being dragged off of the Legacy and onto another smaller ship, but he didn't struggle or fight. His legs fumbled for balance, numb and heavy and weak. Somewhere in his mind he knew they were taking him back. He just couldn't bring himself to care.

Leather cord bit into his skin as it was pulled tight around his wrists. One of the slavers held onto him as the small schooner headed back to the docks, a few others close behind. Jim's gaze wandered back to the nearly destroyed _Legacy_ , her haul ripped open by the jagged cliffs. A small mountain of gold shimmered in the moonlight, spilling into the chasm below.

* * *

note- sorry this took forever, i had some second thoughts about the plot. This was going to have a lot more in it but its been awhile since I updated so I'll put it in the next chapter. Reviews are love


	10. New Plans

The pirates took Jim to a subterranean stonewalled prison, dragging him down the cracked steps and shoving him into a dark, cold, damp cell that smelled like mildew. The bars were thick, and the cell door shut with an audible click. One of them spat at him through the bars. He sat down on the dirt floor without a word, barely moving his head. More pirates traversed the stairs, bringing with them more and more slaves. Jim heard one of them mention 'the pit', and noticed that the elves in the cell next to his went quiet. As soon as the pirates left all eyes in the dungeon were on him. They began shouting at him, spitting at him. A clod of mud flew threw the bars and hit him in the face. Others began to throw small rocks, sometimes bits of broken clay. Jim did nothing but sit there, a ringing noise in his ears. His eyes stung, and as tears began to slip down his face someone else spoke up, a woman's voice barking something in their native language that made them all shut up. One last stone flew through the bars and caught him in the cheek, but the elves had settled for dark, menacing glares and mumbled curses.

Jim waited. He knew he couldn't get out, that he couldn't escape. So he sat crying in silence, eyes trained on the dungeon steps, praying that no one would come for him.

* * *

Silver clenched his jaw as he inspected the wreckage that was the Legacy. The ship could be repaired, that wasn't a concern. Rather the hull was almost empty. With his cyborg eye he turned to the chasm, but even his telescopic lens couldn't penetrate the black void. The treasure was gone. Some of it, he corrected himself. There was still an entire planet of gold. This was small change compared to the rest. No, his worries centered more around his crew. Pirates were nothing if not greedy, and his men were no different. They'd spent years searching for Treasure Planet, and he wasn't sure how they were going to react when they found out they'd just lost a fortune overnight.

"A Vashti clan attempted to flee Keres." One of the aliens told him. "Their ring leader was a rebel who had extensive knowledge of how to operate navigational systems. She was executed by the sentries." There was a large dark stain on the deck where her blood had dried.

"An how in blue blazes did they get away w'it my ship?" Silver asked.

"There was only one watchman at the docks, and the Vashti set fire to one of the lookout towers. He ran when he saw the smoke, to see what had happened." Silver rubbed his head, remembering the soul-piercing toll of the alarm bell that had ripped him from his peaceful sleep. A clever distraction.

"Where's my crew?" He asked, leaning heavily on his crutch to climb back into the skiff.

"Asleep. The casks that were taken to the brothel were drugged. One of mine thinks the Vashti who set the blaze also tampered with the drink. There are herbs that grow here that can be brewed into a sleeping draught. They should awaken in the morning." Silver heaved a sigh. He'd thought better of the drink, and while he'd sipped at the cup most of his drink he'd poured into the cups of other men. He'd hoped his crew would've figured out for themselves to do the same, but they'd let him down before and Silver had no doubt they would do so again. Useless brigands. He'd tear into them in the morning. The cyborg gave a single nod and began to limp toward the gangplank, when the pirate spoke again.

"What would you like us to do with the boy?" Silver hesitated. Surely he didn't mean...

"What boy?"

"When our sentries reclaimed the ship and searched her they found the terran boy your crew brought with you. He's locked up with the rest of 'em." Silver frowned.

"Bring him to me."

* * *

Before dawn Silver was waiting in a barely used chamber of what had once been a great hall, seated before a long stone table carved with symbols he couldn't read. The heavy double doors were pushed open and three aliens came in, one holding the door, one leading Jim behind him with a length of rope, and one at the back with a wicked looking dagger drawn. When Jim looked up Silver noticed a bruise forming under one eye. He dismissed the aliens, an eery pall hanging over the room as they left without a word. The moment the door closed Jim began to stutter.

"I-I didn't mean to help them, I didn't know they were coming, I j-just wanted, I wanted-"

"Jimbo, easy lad." Silver hushed, wrapping his good arm around the boy's shoulders. Jim leaned into him, his body trembling, and Silver felt a sudden rush of guilt. Jim was shivering, his clothes were torn, damp and tattered. His hair, which had been long at the beginning of their voyage, badly needed to be cut. His skin was pale, his face gaunt under the dirt, and though he was putting most of his weight against Silver's gut the kid felt much too light. When the boy had finally calmed down, Silver cut his hands free, feeling a rush of anger when he saw the angry red lines around his wrists. He helped Jim to a chair, then draped his trench coat around his shoulders. Jim rubbed at the marks around his wrists, hissing in pain as the blood began to flow back into his hands.

"Lad I had no idea-"

"I want to go home." His voice was hoarse. Silver sighed, leaning back in his own chair.

"I know, Jimbo." They sat for awhile, Jim's sniffling the only noise interrupting the tense silence. When he'd regained his composure, Jim pulled the coat around him tighter, resting his head against the back of the chair. His eyes closed.

"How did ye get on t'e ship?" Jim shrugged, not opening his eyes.

"Everyone was asleep. I just left." Silver nodded slowly, his plan coming together.

"Where's everyone else?" Jim asked.

"Damned drunks got themselves poisoned last night."

"Are they dead?"

"No, just sleepin'."

"Oh." It was impossible to miss the note of disappointment in his voice.

"Have ye eaten lad?" Jim was quiet. He shook his head. Silver stood, hobbling toward the doors, and Jim sat up, his eyes wide.

"Where are you going?"

"Relax boyo. Just to see about gettin' you cleaned up."

"Can I go with you?" Silver stared at him, slack-jawed. He'd spent the better part of their four month voyage dealing with a sarcastic, brooding teenager, and never once had Silver heard that tone in his voice, never once heard him beg for anything. He was begging now, his eyes pleading with Silver not to leave him alone. The sight unnerved him, felt unnatural. He nodded and the boy stood up as quickly as he could manage without falling over, Silver's coat still around his shoulders. They left the great hall and headed for the harbormaster's home. All around them pirates were working to clean up the wreckage of the tower, small crews were coming to and leaving from the docks to set about bringing the Legacy back. No one paid them any mind, but Jim was never more than a half a step behind Silver the whole way.

Silver had, of course, known that Jim had to be suffering some form of abuse from Scroop. He'd sailed the etherium with the arachnid long enough to know the spacer had a twisted sense of fun. He also had a lot of pride, and Silver had witnessed too many times how Scroop would put people in their place should the need arise. But no matter how many men had suffered at his claws, he would eventually get bored and leave them alone, and while his victims were a little jumpy after the ordeal Silver had never witnessed so strong a change in them. He hoped Jim was no different. He tilted his head down to speak into the boy's ear.

"Listen ta me, Jimbo. Here's what we'll do."

* * *

An hour later and Silver had convinced the harbormaster that Jim hadn't been trying to escape with the Vashti, but that he'd been trying to stop them. Jim played his part, nodding and shaking his head whenever he was asked a question. When the alien was satisfied that Silver's charge wouldn't cause him any more trouble, he agreed that from then on he would be treated as a member of Silver's crew. Nothing less.

Silver had been given a room in what B.E.N called Flint's palace. The massive stone structure was further back from the town, backed by a dense forest and surrounded in ruins.

"It used to be an actual palace." The robot continued. "But that was before the Domid came. And before Flint, obviously, but then Keres wasn't Keres then." Jim kept a wary eye on Silver, but walked beside B.E.N. He knew the robot tried his patience, but he'd had him reassembled(again) without hesitation. Jim was suspicious but he'd remained quiet. Whatever he'd done to get back into Silver's good graces, he wasn't about to question anything. No way was he going back to...whatever circle of hell his life had been.

"When did Flint come here?" He asked now.

"Mmmm I think it was about three hundred and forty-six years ago. Maybe. Probably closer to four hundred. Wait." He stopped suddenly and Jim crashed into him. B.E.N placed a finger on his metal mouth in thought. "Was that before or after Barry?" Jim hurried around him and jogged to catch up to Silver, the robot clanking behind him.

"Why is there a castle here?" Jim asked.

"Well, the Vashti elves are native to Keres, and in their early history the planet was divided up among three clans. I think there's another castle somewhere, but one of them was destroyed in the battle."

"What battle?" B.E.N's eyes flickered, blue to green then back.

"When Flint first came here, he was seeking refuge. He was young then, not much of a pirate. More a smuggler, I think. Anyway, they refused, and a decade later Flint has a fleet of ships and the sigil of the forefathers. We pass by, and he notices there's a battle going on. The Domid aren't from Keres. They're from somewhere beyond the Terran border, and I think he said something about how their people survive by dominating new planets." The palace was coming into view, large piles of rubble along either side of the road hinting at what may have once been a town.

"So Flint makes a deal with the Domid. They're losing, staring death in the face. If he can help them take over the planet, then he'll always be welcome here. And you can tell how that went."

"You said they treated him like a god."

"Yep, worshiped him and everything. There's a gold statue of him somewhere."

"How did he win them the planet?"

"The portal. The Vashti had no warning, a great portal opens up and a fleet of heavily armed pirate ships just started pouring through. The Vashti surrendered, and Flint mercifully allowed them to live."

"Is that what he told you?" He snipped. B.E.N frowned.

"Sorry, Jimmy. That's just how it went." Growing up Jim had never idolized Flint, despite what the gossiping old women liked to tell his mother. He'd grown up knowing that pirates were bad people. He'd only ever been interested in the treasure, and the adventure it promised. Jim wondered, had he known as a child what he did now, if he still would've loved those stories so much.

The palace was a massive square-shaped structure, made of polished stone that had long since gone neglected. The front steps were cracked and broken, with weeds pushing their way through. On either side of the steps was a large slab of stone with tall iron sconces in the middle, rusted and falling apart. Past the entrance there was a courtyard, with an empty stable on the right and a large patch of dead plants to the left. A large heavy wooden door loomed ahead of them, one side propped open with a lance. Inside were tables pushed together before a massive fireplace, barrels stacked against the walls and the tantalizing smell of something being cooked. Jim felt his mouth water. There was music, several elves playing instruments Jim had never seen before, their sour faces betraying their lovely tune. An elf woman sang, and others danced for the pirates, who added to the din by chanting along with the words and stomping their feet.

Silver led the way, past the merrymaking and up a stone spiral staircase, then down a hall to a room guarded by two Domid pirates, armed to the teeth. The nodded at him as he entered, but Silver ignored them.

The room was quite large. There was a small sitting area with a fireplace, a table with four large overstuffed chairs, and a door that Jim assumed was a bathroom. A large bed sat next to the window, covered in thick blankets and pillows. Silver waved Jim toward the fire.

"Put yer feet up, lad."

"I'm ok." Silver gave him a look and Jim ducked his head, going over to the fireplace and sitting in one of the armchairs. He stripped off his jacket, and almost immediately the heat began to sink into his skin. He shivered and sneezed, snuggling deeper into the chair with a sniffle. Silver pulled a pillow and a few blankets off the bed and laid them over the window seat, making a bed for the boy. He half thought Jim was asleep, but when he moved for the door the boy jumped up to follow him. Silver shook his head.

"Ye need t' stay here Jimbo."

"But-"

"Won' be long." Silver interrupted him. "No one will bother wit' ye." He left before Jim could argue, ignoring those damned sad eyes. Jim sat back down, only half listening as B.E.N went on and on about Keres and Flint. He didn't really care, but the sound of another friendly voice was soothing. He fell asleep in front of the fire.

* * *

"Ye half-witted, good fer nothin' band of useless bilge rats!" Silver roared. Half of his crew winced from the sheer volume of his voice, the others took no note, busy as they were vomiting their intestines out. Scroop and Turnbuckle stood attentive, further back from the rest. They'd been the first to awaken from their drugged slumber, and had set about rousing the rest of the crew. Onus was still asleep, and no amount of prodding or shouting would disturb him. He was one of the smallest members of the crew and undoubtably had gotten a much bigger dose than the others. Crex hadn't faired much better, his eyes cloudy and his normally orange-hued skin a sickly peach, but at least he was lucid. Birdbrain Mary was perched on a barstool, her makeup running and her nose bleeding. She was fine but for the scowl on her face.

"What th' devil were ye thinkin'!" Silver continued. "Ye make port at some out of the way planet with a ship full of gold an' ye get heavy wit' drink?!"

"'S not what you were sayin' when we got here," Mary pointed out.

"There's a difference between negotiatin' peace and puttin' yer feet up while there be a fortune in gold sittin' about where anyone in the damned port can take what they please!" He had their attention now, their faces suddenly pale as his words sunk into their drug-addled brains.

"What are you saying?" Grewnge asked, and the cyborg wanted to laugh at the fear in his eyes. Silver glared back at them- now came the tricky part.

"T'ain't any gold left." Now they were pissed.

"What?!"

"Who took it!"

"Why the fuck didn't you say something!"

"Quiet!" Silver shouted again, and his crew reluctantly obeyed. "Harbormaster says some slaves tried to run away, took the Legacy thinkin' they'd make off with the gold. Says the sentries chased them down, but the ship was damaged. Ripped the hull open, an' dumped everythin' into a gorge."

"The cabin boy," Scroop growled. The others turned to him. "He ran away in the night. He ssstole the ship, led them to it. Lossst our gold." The others began shouting in outrage.

"Kill 'im!"

"Burn the fucker alive!" In a trice Silver had bashed Scroop over the head with his mechanical arm, grabbing his throat in a vice. The others went silent, and Scroop even looked surprised.

"An who let 'im out?!" He demanded. "You said you could keep an eye in him, that ye'd make sure he stayed out of th' way!"

"I was poisssoned."

"Ye were a lazy sack o' shite," Silver spat. "An' now I've got t' clean up yer mess. Since ya can't seem t' keep up with a child, ye can go lend the rest of 'em a hand wit gettin' the ship back to the docks." Grewnge hid a grin by feigning an itch behind his ear, but Mary laughed outright. Scroop glared at her, wanting nothing more than to rip her in half. When Silver threw him into the wall, he steadied himself with a hiss and slunk back to Turnbuckle's side. Silver addressed the others. "We can't kill the brat. He's th' only way we can open th' map, and until we've moved every gem and every coffer off tha' planet, he stays where I can keep him under my thumb." No one argued, not even Scroop.

When he felt he'd spoken with them long enough, Silver left his crew to see to whatever needed to be taken care of. Now, he needed to find a tailor.

* * *

By the time Silver returned, Jim had woken, bathed, and now sat on the window seat, staring outside. The window offered a much better view than the Legacy had, and he could almost see the town in the distance. In his hands was a small pebble that he continually turned over and over again, a task to occupy his nerves. He looked up as Silver walked over to him.

"Thought ye might wan' t' get out of those rags o' yours." He set a brown paper parcel down on the bed, and took a seat at the table with his back to Jim as he pulled out his pipe. Jim tore away the paper to reveal a dark shirt and pants of the same color. They fit him, though they felt a bit loose, but he wasn't about to complain. When he was dressed he sat back down on the window seat, hugging his legs to his chest. Silver glanced over at him, and frowned.

"Are ye alright Jimbo?" Silver regretted the question the second he'd asked. The boy had been abducted and tortured by pirates- of course he wasn't alright.

Jim felt the back of his neck and nodded anyway, his dazed stare not moving from its fixed spot of the wall in front of him. Silver wasn't convinced, but he didn't want to press Jim either, so he fell quiet. The clothes seemed to fit him well, so for now he was satisfied.

B.E.N sat in one of the armchairs, his eyes closed as his systems recharged. Silver grimaced when he noticed the robot. Jim must have noticed, because he spoke up.

"He can't hurt anyone. You don't have to...shut him down."

"How Cap'in Flint put up with all tha' noise I'll never know." Silver scoffed. The boy walked over to sit on the hearth.

"I'll keep him quiet." Jim offered. "He won't bother you." Silver highly doubted that.

"We'll see." There was a pause.

"I'm sorry." Silver looked at him, bewildered.

"What fer?"

"Your eye." He spoke so softly Silver barely heard him. "Your leg. What I said."

"T'ink nothin' of it lad."

"Are you gonna...is Scroop going to-"

"No." Jim winced. Silver tried again. "He won' be botherin' ye anymore. None of 'em will." Jim shook his head.

"You don't know that."

"I know ye've been goin' through more 'n yer share of..." He couldn't force the words, and Jim didn't correct him. Silver coughed. "But ye won' have to worry about tha' anymore. I made sure of it." The boy stood, electing to pace the carpet.

"Please, please tell me you didn't," Jim muttered. "Every time you try to help it gets worse." Silver bristled.

"What would ye have me do then? Let my crew eat you alive?"

"You really think they won't? You know the first time I got my ass handed to me all he had to do was corner me in the goddamn kitchen?!"

"You just let me worry about tha'." Silver said with a heavy sigh. "They need ye."

"And how do I know that?"

"Yer not dead." Silver said shortly. Jim met his hard stare and ducked his head, fiddling with his sleeve. "Long as yer good fer somethin, th' crew won' touch ye. I can promise tha' much." Jim's shoulders slouched, but he offered no argument.

* * *

Silver met with his crew again later that evening, this time with Jim in tow. The pirates gathered around, all eyes on Jim. The boy was careful to avoid Scroop's heated glare, but just as Silver had said the pirates gave him a wide berth. Once they'd all assembled, Silver cleared his throat.

"Now. Ye all know what happened to the treasure. Almost all o' that gold is at the bottom of a ravine. It's good as gone, 'less you wan' to climb down there and bring back every single coin." Of course no one volunteered. Silver held up the map. "Soon as the Legacy is fit to sail, we're goin' back to th' planet."

"The doctor and the felidae will have found their way back by now." Turnbuckle spoke up.

"We won' be alone. Our new friends here've offered t' send some ships of their own. We'll be careful. Won' be easy, but with what little gold we've got left we'll be armed t' the teeth." Two Domid men stepped through the door, and Silver gestured at them. "This here be Cog an Vel. Th' two of them have several ships, says they'd be more'n happy t' help." The taller of the two stepped forward.

"Pardon me, Captain Silver. But we'd like to see this 'map' for ourselves. If you don't mind." Silver gestured to Jim. The boy opened the map, watching as the green otherworldly hologram scanned the room and began projecting their location. There was Keres, with the two moons hovering nearby. The Domid men stared at the projection in awe, one of their mouths hanging open.

"Strange magic," one of them muttered, tracing some kind of symbol over his chest. Silver reached out and touched the replica of Keres, sending the map spinning away from them, past Cornelius, to...

The crew began to murmur and whisper. Jim climbed off of the barrel, slowly edging for the door. Silver felt the blood drain from his face.

"What th' devil..."

* * *

Amelia could only stare off the bow of the Valiance, her eyes searching the empty void. Her mouth hung open in a silent plea.

"No, no that's impossible. The coordinates are exact, I should know!" Delbert was insisting behind her. "I studied them for four months, they never changed!"

"How do you explain this then?" Blake sighed. "I don't doubt you for a moment Dr. Doppler, but look for yourself." He gestured at the vast emptiness of space that lay before them. Where the legendary trove had been just months before, there was now only an asteroid field.

"There's nothing here." Blake stressed. "We've nothing else to go on." He put a consoling hand on the doctor's shoulder. "I'm sorry." He meant it, Delbert could see that, but it did nothing to quell his outrage.

"We've waited too long already!" He shouted at Blake. "Who knows where they could be by now? And you're not even willing to look for them?!"

"Where would you have me look?" Blake asked, a stern look in his eye. "I can't very well tear apart the galaxy looking for a single band of pirates. The Etherium is infested with them. You could spend your entire life searching and never find them. We'd be better off leaving the matter to the Intergalactic Alliance." Delbert glared at him.

"Somewhere out there, an innocent child is at the mercy of ruthless monsters, and you want to run back home and play soldier?" His felid eyes widened, the slit pupils dilating. There was a growl in his voice when he spoke.

"Doctor I'd advise you to hold your tongue. I will not tolerate insubordination on my ship." Delbert rolled his eyes in the most sarcastic fashion he could manage.

"Fine. Have it your way." He spat, and stormed back to his cabin. Blake sighed, and turned to Amelia.

"I'm sorry, Captain Smollett, but there's nothing more I can do." Amelia blinked, coming out of her reverie.

"Yes, of course." She cleared her throat. "You've done all you can. But we won't stop searching."

"I don't know what happened on the Legacy, but-"

"I've told you what happened. Multiple times." She shook her head. "I don't blame you for your skepticism. Pirates after fairytale treasure, I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." She inspected her nails. "Nevertheless, I must implore you to take us to the closest outpost. This area is our best chance of finding clues to the planet's disappearance." She nodded to him and walked away before he had a chance to refuse, the heels of her boots clicking against the deck.

* * *

Delbert slammed the door shut behind him. Rage boiled his blood, and he saw red. How was this possible? How could an entire planet just vanish into thin air? The portal was one thing, he understood how Flint had used it to dart all over the Etherium, but the planet itself was a fixed mechanism, there weren't any jets the size of mountains, nothing. It shouldn't have been able to move, but now it was gone.

Another thought presented itself, souring his mood even further. They still couldn't go home. His family had distanced him since he'd chosen to pursue a career in astrophysics, and Sarah's were in another star system entirely. Where could they go? Nowhere, he realized. There was nothing they could do, and nowhere they could hide. Never before had he felt so helpless. Not even when Amelia had been injured on the accursed planet.

With an outraged yell he swept his arms across the desk, sending everything flying. He grabbed the water pitcher from the wash basin and threw it, smashing it against the door. Books were kicked away, the bed was shoved with such force that the wood gave an alarming snap from somewhere. Delbert tripped over a discarded bowl that had once held fruit, toppling to the floor and smacking his head. He forced himself to take a deep breath, pushing his spectacles up onto his forehead and rubbing his tired eyes. There was a noise, like something choking.

Delbert froze, listening. Another muffled sputter. Slowly, he got to his feet, pretending he hadn't noticed. Another giggle. He turned his head just in time to see an inkwell quiver. He sprang at it, grabbing it in his hands. Instantly the silver and ceramic pot melted in his grasp, turning pink and growing two large eyes before it burst out laughing. Delbert saw red.

"YOU!" He shouted, and Morph stopped giggling, his eyes flying open wide as he screamed and slipped through Delbert's fingers. A frantic chase ensued, Delbert shouting obscenities as he tried to snatch the shapeshifter out of the air. Morph cooed, trying to apologize for whatever he'd done, zipping from one corner of the room to the next. Finally Delbert had the foresight to grab a pillowcase and netted the alien blob. He listened to the frantic cooing and other noises as Morph calmed down. Delbert forced himself to do likewise. Morph was, at the most, a pet. He was clearly an intelligent life form, but the shapeshifter could hardly be called a pirate himself. It would be wrong to treat the creature as one.

Delbert sat at the desk, and opened the pillowcase. Morph slowly peered out of it, chirping softly with inquisitive eyes. Delbert removed his spectacles and rubbed his face.

"I'm sorry." The blob sat on the desk, cocking it's head to one side. "How did you get here?" Morph formed himself into a replica of Delbert's coat, and a miniature version of the blob poked his head out from the pocket. Delbert shook his head. "No. the last time anyone saw you was..." He tried to think back, but the events of the past few months blurred together. "I don't even know." Morph chirped again, cautiously edging closer to Delbert's face. With a coo he rubbed his head against Delbert's chin, the way he'd done to Jim so many times. He pushed the blob away with a gentle hand and sighed.

"It's gone, Morph. The planet, the treasure, the Legacy, all gone. Jim too." Morph seemed to understand, forming a tiny replica of the boy. Delbert winced at the sudden ache in his chest. Mini Jim mopped an invisible deck, just as he had so often during their voyage.

"We were so stupid," Delbert lamented. "I should've stayed behind. Thrown those damn pirates off, given Amelia and Jim a chance to get away. We never should've left him there."

Morph dissolved, reforming into a tiny skiff, complete with both Amelia and Delbert in miniature. Delbert frowned. Morph must've seen them escaping. Why hadn't he alerted the pirates? Instead, a tiny version of Morph flew after them, unnoticed. As mini Amelia leaned over the edge and touched the holographic sphere, Delbert watched as a replica portal appeared. The skiff passed through the door, followed by the tiny pink blob. Mini Morph brushed past the globe, and something odd happened. The globe flashed three times, pulsing. Tiny morph panicked and flew through the door seconds before it closed. Just before it did, a series of tiny symbols appeared in the center. Delbert squinted, putting his spectacles back on and peering closer at the scene playing out before him. Morph took this as a sign Delbert wanted to play, reforming into himself and licking the doctor's cheek. Delbert brushed him off, making a face.

"No, no, stop that!" He sputtered. "What was that? In the portal?" Morph looked up at him, confused. Several agonizing moments of desperate charades later and Morph finally got the idea, replaying the scene. Scrambling for a pen and a scrap of paper he began to copy the symbols in a frantic scribble. When he was done he stared down at the page. The symbols weren't letters or numbers, or at the very least not ones that he recognized. But they looked familiar. He'd seen markings like these before somewhere, but where?

Then it clicked. Inside B.E.N's home, engraved all over the walls. The symbols on the map, why hadn't he recognized it sooner? There was a short horizontal line separating the symbols into two groups. Coordinates. Delbert facepalmed as he remembered B.E.N's words.

 _"You mean the miles and miles of machinery that run through the entire course of the inside of this planet? Not a clue."_

Miles and miles of machinery. An artificial planet, constructed to house an ancient treasure trove. A holographic globe that could locate other planets thousands of miles away and open a portal to them. And finally a key that could find said planet from anywhere in the galaxy. A location system. Treasure Planet hadn't disappeared- it had moved.

And Delbert had an overwhelming suspicion he was looking at a set of coordinates.

* * *

Sorry it's been awhile, life shit happened. Also i just wanted to reassure everyone reading this that no, there hasn't been any sexual contact or rape of any kind. If and when somebody has sex, it will be readily apparent and probably mentioned, not just hinted at. Unless, like...plot reasons.

For the sake of simplicity, I've named the two alien races on Keres, the elf-like aliens are Vashti and the troll-like aliens are Domid.

Also points to anyone who noticed Morph was missing the whole time.


End file.
